Amnesia and Other Phenomena
by Westward
Summary: AU. Donna could deal with her best mate having a severe case of amnesia. Donna could deal with his oddities like his extensive knowledge of physics, astronomy, and history. She could even deal with his energetic personality and complete lack of the need to sleep. What she couldn't deal with is a strange man banging on her door at two in the morning, claiming to be said best mate.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

They had met five years ago.

Donna Noble was nineteen that day, and happened to be out of school for about a year, much to her mother's dissatisfaction. She was riding on a crowded bus in the middle of London during a rainstorm; a spring jacket was keeping her warm, a dark red hat rested on top of her hair, and her grandfather's umbrella was by her side. Donna would have been completely at ease if it wasn't for the fact that her mother was sitting by her side instead of Wilf. Her grandfather had gotten the stomach bug earlier that morning, leaving Sylvia to chaperone her daughter as they toured the University.

Currently, her mother was reading the morning newspaper with a cup of coffee in one hand and the paper in the other. The two had gotten into a petty argument on their way out the door, leaving the two women with no desire to strike up conversation with each other. In fact, Sylvia was doing her best to look busy as she skimmed over the headlines of her somehow incredibly interesting newspaper. And Donna was occupying her time looking at the other passengers, hoping that they wouldn't catch her staring.

After a good ten minutes, Donna let out a large sigh, complete with the rising of her shoulders.

"Don't do that Donna. It's un-lady like." Sylvia Noble scolded her daughter without even glancing over to her. Slowly she turned a page over and began reading again.

Just to spite her mother, Donna let out an even heavier sigh and positioned herself so that her mother could only glare at her back. As she did so, she could feel Sylvia's eyes on her, but Donna ignored her and started to play at the hem of Wilf's umbrella, feeling the tips of her fingernails come in contact with stray, cold drops of water. How she wished that her grandfather was here instead of her mother; this was supposed to be their day out in the big city, not her mother's.

They fell into silence again, with only the occasional flip of the newspaper to fill in their tension. Traffic was heavy today in London, and the constant downfall of rain was not helping. They had been riding for almost an hour at a snail's pace, which was only making both Noble's irritable in their journey. And each second made Donna dread her decision more and more. She grew antsy, wanting nothing more but to step out of the bus and walk back home by herself.

"Why did I agree to this?" Donna asked herself rhetorically, her anxiousness almost tangible.

"Because you want a good job, right?" Sylvia asked in a condescending tone, finally looking up at her daughter. She raised an eyebrow, giving an air of haughtiness to her. Donna tried not to roll her eyes at her mother's reaction. "Do you want to struggle through life, working as a Temp?"

She waited for Donna to answer. Donna didn't. Sylvia took Donna's silence as an agreement.

"I didn't think so." Sylvia said, sounding as if she made perfect sense. "No, it's best if you get an education, and then meet a bloke with a high paying job."

"Honestly mom, marriage is the last thing on my mind." Donna said through a sigh.

"Wait five years." Was her mother's reaction.

"And why do I have to go to a Uni?! Honestly, all that'll do will put me in debt with only a degree in a useless field for condolences." Donna muttered as she slunk back into the seat. The bus was slowing down, and the people around them were starting to fidget, ready to get off of the public transportation and to their jobs and appointments. "To me it seems a bit pointless."

"If you don't, you'll be living at home for the rest of your life. And I doubt that's something you want." Sylvia said, her tone marking that as the end of the discussion.

The bus finally pulled into a complete stop. The doors opened and a flood of people stepped out into the busy streets of a dreary London neighborhood. Soon there was more breathing room, as less people hopped on the bus than those who left. The seats surrounding the Noble's were left empty, making the silence between the two woman feel even more tense.

That is, until a young man no older than Donna sat down directly across the aisle that Donna was occupying. He looked drenched, wearing nothing but a black leather jacket to keep him warm in the chilly spring air. His hair was cut incredibly short, just barely too long to be considered peach fuzz. And his short haircut did nothing to hide his unusually large ears and stout nose, both of which were currently dripping a few stray drops of water onto his shoulders and underlying shirt.

Donna only glanced at him, feeling too put off from her mother to do anything else. Besides, he looked completely miserable while he was sopping wet for an introduction. He sniffed his nose unconsciously and then rubbed at it, completing the whole "miserably wet" look.

But somehow, the young man still noticed how he had caught the ginger's attention. He glanced over at her, caught her eyes, and then gave her the sappiest grin she had ever seen. It didn't help when he had the ears to fit it, giving him a comical look. At first, Donna broke eye contact and looked to her left, where her mother was sitting. She hoped that that would be enough of a rebuttal to stop any conversation from happening.

And then for some reason, Donna's gaze was pulled back to the man sitting adjacent to her. He smiled again and waved with a hand. Donna couldn't help but faintly smile back, finding that grin of his to be contagious.

"Hello there." He said, still grinning.

"Hello." Donna replied, feeling awkward striking up a random conversation. However, she seemed to be the only one who was feeling this, as the man kept waiting for a response from her. After a minute of staring at each other with the only sound coming from the bus around them, Donna forced herself to continue. "I'm, ah, I'm Donna."

"Nice to meet you Donna, I'm John. John Smith." The man said.

He then stuck his hand out for a shake. He spoke with a clear Northern accent that Donna hadn't heard for quite some time. Donna didn't take the hand; rather she raised an eyebrow at John, just like her mother had done to her only minutes ago.

"Are you actually named John Smith?" Donna asked incredulously.

John frowned, obviously confused. "What's wrong with my name?"

"You're parents actually named you John Smith? Blimey, they must have been the most uncreative people in of all of London." Donna couldn't help but giggle as she continued. "Still, at least they didn't name you John Doe, else they would be looking for a dead body!"

John looked offended, but only slightly. Actually, he seemed more affected by the mentioning of his parents than from Donna poking fun at his name. "Oi, I happen to like my name. It's perfectly ordinary!"

"Whatever you say, Ear-boy!" Donna blurted before she could even think of something to say. Suddenly, she felt awful for being rude to the man when they only just met. She was about to apologize when John surprisingly rose to her challenge.

"Well now that I know that what they say about a ginger's temper to be true." John said, his tone of voice half-mocking Donna, and half in jest. He paused for a second, looking to see what kind of reaction he was getting from Donna and he was not disappointed with what he found. "Better keep a lid on that, sweetheart, or else someone's going to think a fire hydrant popped. And trust me, the red hat's not helping your case."

"Oh really?!" Donna asked, her voice rising in volume. This was a challenge that she would not back down on.

"Yes really!" John retorted, his own volume matching hers.

The two would have most certainly gone at it for far longer if it wasn't for the sharp kick to the leg Donna received from her mother. Donna whipped her head around to face her mother, who was currently glaring at her as if she was a child who set fire to the living room drapes. On purpose. Donna knew this look her mother was giving her, and she knew it was better to stop this from getting out of hand. She didn't want to face her mother's fury today if she could help it.

Slowly, Donna turned around to face John Smith again. Her whole posture turned stiffly and looked completely fake. However, this was exactly what her mother wanted. She put on her best, fake smile and tilted her head slightly to the right. John seemed confused for a second, but said nothing. Donna sucked in a breath through clenched teeth and let the air settle in her lungs for a few seconds.

"Sorry about that. I do hope you can forgive me." Donna said through clenched teeth, obviously not sounding genuine at all.

However, it looked like whether Donna meant it or not didn't concern John at all. He just smiled back at her with that sappy grin of his and said "No worries," before turning his back on her to look out of the window.

Donna was left confused at the encounter for the rest of the bus ride. When they reached their stop at the University, Donna and Sylvia stood up quickly. The two Nobles moved fast, and they were the first ones to exit the bus. The younger mumbled as she stepped outside the bus, thinking about the dreary cold weather and how she wished we was at home with her granddad, watching old movies and eating popcorn on the couch. Her mother ignored Donna's jumbled up remarks and led the younger woman up to the large building in the middle of central London.

The noise of the city was left behind as the Nobles entered the main lobby through the revolving door, where they soon recognized that they were not the only ones here for the tour, and they certainly weren't the first. There was at least two dozen or so more students around Donna's age. Each one had a parent accompanying them, and they were all holding a Styrofoam cup in one hand and a pamphlet bearing the Uni's colors in the other. It looked like they had been there for a long time.

"Right," Sylvia sighed as she took off her own hat and put it in her purse. "I'll sign us in and get you the papers you'll need to fill out. Don't wander off."

As soon as her mother was out of her sight, Donna made a beeline to the punch bowl. She barely ate anything for breakfast; her mother had been too busy panicking about the broken down car to help her make something for the two of them. And Wilf had been too sick to get out of bed, not to mention neither of the women would let him get up. Donna's stomach was growling in protest, demanding to be fed something to tide it over.

So Donna helped herself to a cup or two of punch while her mother was somewhere filling out paperwork and most likely talking her way with the Uni's staff. As she was about to refill her cup for the second time, a hand went to grab the ladle at the same time. And the black leather was strikingly familiar to Donna. She looked up to see the familiar face of John Smith. He looked as surprised as she felt for a brief second, before smiling again and then filling up his own cup.

"Taking the tour here too, yeah?" John asked before taking a large sip of the pink colored punch.

"Yeah, that's right." Donna answered, giving John a confused look. The two sipped at their punch for a long minute, looking at each other but not speaking. Suddenly, Donna asked "So you plan to attend here next semester?"

John's smile faltered at that. "Yeah, I guess so. I didn't really want to, though."

"Oh thank goodness, I'm not the only one!" Donna said unexpectedly, the relief practically rolling off of her in waves. Donna then broke into a genuine smile before continuing. "I'm only doing this to get my bloody mother off of my back! Fat lot of good this'll do me."

John cracked into his own smile, this one not looking so sappy. "Oh I know, I have a friend out of town that tells me this is the only way I'll make a living in a world like this. I don't understand why I need to learn more than what I already know. And if I do want to learn, it should be through my own accord, not by what some old bloke tells me I need to know to make a living."

"As if I hadn't said that to my own mother just this morning." Donna said, smiling now as she took another sip of punch.

Their conversation continued, going from pushy friends and Donna's parents to their favorite hobbies and then to their dreams and desires. It looked like they had much in common, if you counted the people that cared about you were pushy assholes. Not only that, but Donna noticed that their sense of humor was not too different from each other, which was probably the sole cause of the tension between the two this morning. As the minutes passed by, Donna found how easy it was to talk to this man. Her earlier impressions of John as a sappy know-it-all washed away as he animatedly talked about his desire to travel around the world.

"I want to see all the ancient world wonders." John said, getting very animated by the subject. "I want to see the Parthenon of Ancient Greece, walk the Great wall of China, visit the Roman Colosseum. I want to see all of those things, but not only that but live the cultures, speak their languages."

"That sounds amazing." Donna said as she listened to John's bucket list. "I've never thought of travelling myself. But you make it sound like it's the biggest adventure in life."

"Really, never?" John asked.

"No. I mean, there was this one time that my granddad took me to Paris for the day. But I was only six at the time, and I can barely remember any of it." Donna said as she tried to look back at that one day in the middle of a cold winter. "I'd love to go back there, actually."

"Well I tell you what Donna." John started, he raised his free hand as if he was ready to tell Donna something through sign language. "If I ever get the opportunity to go to Paris, I'll take you with me."

"Really?"

"You can count on me."

Suddenly, they were interrupted as an old, graying man wearing a suit and red colored nametag cough to clear his throat. Everyone, including John and Donna, paused to turn around and see that he was standing on the steps of a large, wooden staircase, making him more than a couple feet taller than everyone else in the room. The old man didn't react to having all of their eyes on him, and he only glanced at his watch to look at the time as if he was in control of the gathering here.

Donna's eyes wandered, not at all interested in the man in front of the room. She soon found her mom leaning against a wall, talking to another man wearing a nametag under hushed breath. She couldn't help but roll her eyes, knowing that Sylvia was most likely trying to worm her into the honor's program and other such nonsense. That wouldn't do Donna any good, only increasing the work load on her plate. That is, if Donna was even going to attend this college.

"If I can have everyone's attention." The old, graying man called out in a booming voice. Donna's interest returned to the man, and then she glanced up at John to see that he was watching him as well. "The tour will commence in a few minutes, so grab all your belongings and follow me upstairs to the Ballroom. You'll meet with your tour guides there."

The silence that he created was gone when he stepped off of the staircase. The people around Donna went back to their conversations, or more or less the end of their conversations, as they grabbed their spring coats and umbrellas. She let out a huff of air and tightened her hold on Wilf's umbrella. Now that the tour was starting, Donna was reminded once again how much she didn't want to attend a University.

Suddenly, someone tapped at her shoulder. Donna looked up to see that it was John, who looked just as unimpressed as she must look.

"I've got an idea." John started. He hunched down to get at Donna's level and whispered softly enough to make sure that she was the only one to hear him. The edge of his mouth twisted into a fast little smirk that disappeared soon after. "There's a pub just around the corner from here. And a museum two blocks east. I say let's have some fun; go eat for a couple of hours and then spend the rest of the day at the museum."

"What, you mean like a date?" Donna asked in a hushed tone, but she was still able to spit out the word date as if it contained the plague.

John's eyes widened at her words. "No! Not at all like a date. Just as friends. Plus I'm starving; barely ate anything before I had to catch the bus."

"You don't know how familiar that sounds, mate." Donna said, nodding her head. Her stomach growled audibly in agreement. John obviously heard it and smiled in approval. "I'm game for it. We just need to slip by my mother, and then we'll be out in the clear. If she catches me leaving, I'll never hear the end of it."

"Fantastic." John said enthusiastically.

He grabbed Donna's hand, which startled her. It shocked her that someone she knew barely little about would hold her hand so readily. But she didn't let go as he lead her through the crowd of people and out into the still raining streets of London. Donna barely had anytime to open Wilf's umbrella to shield the two of them from the rainfall. And at the speed that John was taking her, they were going to get very wet if she didn't stop. Not to mention that she'll be huffing and puffing, as she was not in as shape as John seemed to be.

But when she tugged on John with their connected arms, he stopped just long enough for her to open the umbrella. Donna could see he was thankful for the umbrella, as he was now grinning that stupid grin of his. Despite the fact they had only stopped for a second, he was already practically jumping up and down with anticipation.

They made it to the pub in good time, as the wind had just picked up as they entered the small restaurant. As Donna closed the umbrella, she could see how unnecessary it was, as both John and herself were drenched; his ears were dripping water again and Donna's long hair was clinging to her neck. In fact, it looked like there was a spot on them left dry. The two took one long look at each other before breaking out into uncontrollable laughter.

"It's this way, let's go." John said as he finally regained control of himself. He looked around the small place before spotting an open booth and leading them over that way. "They better serve fish and chips here, I'm starving."

By the end of the day, Donna couldn't see John as anything but a friend.

At the end of the month, Donna couldn't call John anything but her best friend.

When summer ended five months later, the two were completely inseparable.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

As the end of August approached, both John and Donna were preparing for College life. Despite what both of the friends thought about higher education, both had been enrolled at the University they had met at for the next four years. While Donna only lived about thirty minutes away from the University, which would mean she would live with her mother and grandfather, John wasn't from the area and would be forced to live in the dormitories for the entirety of his studies.

"Mom, can I use the car?" Donna asked, calling down the stairs in an attempt to gain Sylvia's attention. She held a brush in one hand and the green T-shirt she decided to wear in the other.

"And why would you need the car?" Was her mother's loud response.

"John needs help moving into his dorm room. He asked me if we could use the car." Donna said as she finished putting on a pair of jeans. Now that she was dressed, Donna left her room and scurried downstairs, where the smell of eggs and ham was prevalent. She took in the smell and smiled delightfully; it smelled like heaven. "It'll only be for a couple hours, Mom."

Sylvia looked at Donna as her daughter entered the kitchen. She gave Donna a look as she opened the fridge to pour out herself a small glass of orange juice. Wilf was there as well, completely engrossed in the morning's paper, but not too engrossed to give Donna a quick hug and kiss on the cheek as she sat down next to him.

"It doesn't bother me that you'll have the car for the morning." Sylvia said as she took the eggs off of the stove. She came over and dropped the eggs onto the three plates sitting on the table. She paused to look at Donna, giving her a serious look. "What bothers me is that he always asks you for these kind of favors, and no one else."

"So? What are you getting at?" Donna asked between bites.

"In the five months that you've known him. how much do you _know_ about this John?" Sylvia asked, exasperatedly as she sat down next to her daughter. "I never see you two apart from each other, but I've never been introduced to his family. I've never even heard him talking about them."

"You've got to be joking, mom." Donna muttered, the urge to roll her eyes was almost too great to ignore.

"Okay then, smarty pants! Tell me, has he ever mentioned about his personal life? Family, other friends?" Sylvia questioned as she took a mug of hot coffee in her hands. "What's his mother's name?"

Donna was about to answer with a smart-ass remark when her breath caught in her throat. In the five months that the two knew each other, John_ did_ rarely spoke of his own personal life, let alone his family. The two rarely touched on that subject as it was, and whenever they did John had the habit of diverting her questions or answering vaguely. She hadn't thought anything of it, until now.

"Yes mom, I have." Donna said softly, lying to her mother. She stared out the window as she answered, thinking more closely. She took a large sip of her orange juice, hoping that answer would stop any further questions that her mother would certainly throw at her.

"Well, I guess if that's so, then you can have the car for the day." Sylvia said, not noticing her daughter's lie. She grabbed her purse and opened it, and then after some searching pulled out the Toyota's keys. Donna opened up her palm and Sylvia dropped the keys in her open hand. "The tank should be full; it should last for the whole day. That is, unless the two of you decide to run off and take a sea ferry to Belgium for the weekend again."

"That was just one time, Sylvia." Wilf said in defense of his granddaughter. He put a reassuring hand on Donna's shoulder and squeezed it lovingly, which she rewarded him with a soft smile. "Besides, I think it was just what Donna needed. It's not good to stay cooped up inside the house during the whole summer. And who better to trust than John; he seems like a fine fellow."

"Dad, we barely know anything about him." Sylvia muttered, finally realizing she was on the losing side of this battle.

"He's my best mate, and that's good enough for me." Donna said as she finally stood up. She grabbed her own purse and headed for the door. She opened the front door, but paused in the doorway to face her family. "Besides, we'll be too busy today for any random trips to foreign countries. I've got to pick up John and get everything packed up before the end of the night."

Donna soon left and made her way to the outer parts of London. John lived on the outskirts of the city, just over an hour away from Donna's house. He lived in the suburbs in a small house that looked very ordinary with a small garden in the back along with a tool shed. Donna had never been invited inside the house, as she had only come here every so often to pick John up or drop him off.

After the hour long drive to John's house, not inluding the traffic that had the ginger pulling out her hair, Donna pulled into the driveway and honked on the horn. A few minutes passed and Donna honked the horn twice this time, impatiently. Eventually she was rewarded with an answer. John's head poked out through the front door and he grinned at her while he waved. He disappeared again. A few seconds later, the garage door opened up, revealing John Smith with three suitcases, a mini-fridge, a desk lamp, something that looked like a laptop case, and two plastic storage containers.

Donna looked at John's items and grumbled softly to herself. How in the world were they going to fit all that stuff in her small car? She shook her head, deciding that she wouldn't say anything, and pulled the key out of the ignition. As Donna got out of her car, John came over and nudged her.

"What do you think, ready for college yet?" John said as he crossed his arms and leaned against the hood of her car. He was wearing the same leather jacket he wore when they first met, and a pair of blue jeans with sneakers for easy moving today. "Fortunately this is all that I'll need for the semester."

"All that you need?" Donna asked exasperatedly. "All that you _need_! How big do you think my car is, John? We might get everything to fit in, save for the fridge. But even that'll be a squeeze. How the hell are we going to fit in there?!"

"Oi, relax Donna. I've got a plan." John said as he got up from where he was standing and opened the back door to Donna's Toyota. "It's all about perfect packing."

At that, Donna couldn't help but comment. "John, you are about the worst packer I have ever known."

"Yeah, I know that. And now _I_ know that you know that. But luckily for us, Miss Sarah Jane isn't." John said.

And before Donna could ask who John was talking about, her best friend returned to the garage faster than she could blink. John opened a door that looked like it went into the house. He closed it behind him, and then Donna was left alone, standing in the middle of the driveway.

Donna hesitated before following John to the back of the garage and opened the door. She stepped in slowly find herself in a beige colored hallway. To her left was a laundry room, with the machines running for what looked like some time. There was a small bathroom to her right, and Donna didn't feel comfortable enough checking to see if there was someone occupying it. Feeling out of place, she called out for John.

"John, where did you go?" Donna asked as she took a couple steps down the hallway,

Donna soon found herself in what looked like the kitchen. There were old dishes stacked in the sink; they couldn't be any older than an hour. The dish washer was running already with a previous set. There was a small, round table with three chairs in the corner by large windows looking out to the back garden. It looked like it was used fairly regularly. And then there was the fridge, which was covered in the holy grail of pictures and memorabilia.

Donna stepped closer to the fridge. The fridge was covered with pictures of John, a younger looking boy whom she had never met, and an older woman. There was one of the three overlooking what looked like the Grand Canyon with John in the middle and the other two by his side, his arms slung over them and one of his sappy grins on his face. There was more like that, except it looked like it was taken at Stonehenge, the Arc Du Triumph, and other places.

_Well,_ Donna thought, _at least I know why he wants to travel around the world now._

There were other pictures. There was one of the other boy sitting behind a birthday cake, who was ready to blow the candles out and John was in the corner of the picture, a smile most likely on his face. Another one where John and the boy wore matching school outfits. And there was one where the woman and John were hugging.

But there was one picture that caught Donna attention. It was of the woman, who looked much younger in this photograph and was wearing clothing that looked like it belonged in the 70's. It must have been taken years ago. She was with an older man who towered over her, wore a brown hat and a ridiculously long, multicolored scarf. His very look screamed eccentric; his curly brown hair and wide eyes did nothing to help but make him look like a mad man. The woman and man looked like a pair, two peas in a pod; Donna could see the trust and companionship the two had in their bond. The two were smiling at the camera, albeit they looked a little exhausted and ready to pass out. Donna smiled back, affected by the pair's obvious friendship.

She was just about to take the picture off of the fridge to get a better look, when someone else entered the kitchen. Donna looked up just in time to see the woman from the photograph jump. She was startled, and she let out a small cry as she saw Donna.

"Oh, excuse me. " The woman said as she tried to calm herself down. "I didn't expect to see someone standing in my kitchen."

"Sorry about that, miss." Donna said, smiling apologetically. "I was just looking for my friend John. He left me standing in the driveway without a word. He lives here, yeah?"

"John does live here, you must be Donna then." The woman said as she stuck out her hand. Donna took it and they gave it a firm shake. She eyed Donna, observing her under great scrutiny. Donna felt slightly uncomfortable, feeling as if she was being judged by the woman, and she didn't know what she'll come up with. Finally, the woman smiled, happy with what she saw. "It's nice to finally meet you, or any of John's friends."

"From what I know, I'm one of John's only friends if you ask me." Donna said as she retracted her hand and put it to her side.

"Yes I know. John doesn't have that many friends. But those that he does have mean very much to him. He does seem to have a good sense of character of others." The woman said, smiling softly to herself. "From what I've seen, he only chooses the best for friends. Oh, I'm Sarah Jane Smith by the way, John's foster mother."

"Foster mother?" Donna asked, confused. "I didn't know John was adopted."

Sarah Jane shook her head unconsciously and went over to the sink. She began hand washing the dishes, leaving a long moment of silence while both of them thought. "He probably never brought it up. Knowing John he never even thought that he should have. I don't think it matters to him."

"Is this his brother then?" Donna said as she pointed to the other boy in the birthday picture.

"Foster brother. Never had children of my own, but both boys are still my family." Sarah Jane said as she looked up to see where Donna was pointing at. "That's Luke, he's younger than John. I adopted him about a year before John, however. About four years ago."

"And the man in this picture? Is it your husband? Brother?" Donna said as she took the picture of Sarah Jane and the strange man down. She came to the woman's side so she could get a look at it. "Sorry, I don't mean to be intruding. It's just that he's never talked much about his family, and I don't want to ask anything that'll bother him. But-"

But her mother had been right. She knew nothing about John and this was her chance to get to know her best friend. And Donna will be damned if she didn't call out Sarah Jane's name the minute she walked back into her own house. That would hopefully stop her mother from pestering her about John.

"But you'd like to get to know John better, I know. It doesn't bother me, Donna." Sarah paused to glance at the photo. She chuckled to herself as she recognized the photo Donna was questioning. "No, that's not my brother, or my husband. I can never see myself married to that old man. No, he's just an old family friend that I haven't seen in a long time and who I sorely miss."

"Is he dead?" Donna asked, feeling very guilty all of a sudden if she brought up a painful death.

"No, he's not dead. Just gone for now." Sarah Jane said, her voice growing soft. There was a sad smile on her face now, as if she was remembering a long forgotten memory. "Hopefully he'll be back soon. Though it feels like he's always here with me."

Suddenly, someone was calling Donna's name from the other side of the house, ending the two women's conversation. Shortly after, John appeared at the doorway of the kitchen, a confused look plastered on his face. He looked over at Sarah Jane and then at Donna, thinking to himself for a brief second before deciding that he liked the situation and walked over.

"There you are Donna, I can see you already met Sarah Jane." John said as he walked over and kissed the woman on the cheek just like any son would do to their mother. Sarah Jane patted John on the back with a firm but friendly _whack _and then continued washing the dishes. "Do you know where Luke is? I've been looking everywhere for him."

"He's over with the neighbors today, John. Spent the night over." Sarah Jane said.

John frowned. "Oh, well that's alright I guess. I wanted Donna to meet him."

"Maybe later during Christmas break we can have Donna over for dinner." Sarah Jane offered. "I'm sure that they'll meet each other sooner or later."

John's frown deepened, disliking the offer but nodded in agreement with it anyways. "Yeah, I guess that's fine. Christmas. Christmas will work, I suppose. Anyways, can you help us pack up my stuff? I thought Donna's car was bigger for some reason."

"Give me a few minutes to finish up here and I'll meet you two outside." Sarah Jane said both in agreement and dismissal.

John grinned and he grabbed Donna's hand, something he habitually did over the months that the two had known each other, and led Donna back through the garage. She had long since surrendered to this, knowing that her argument about hand holding in public would lead to people thinking of them as a couple was a dying cause. It was just something that John was used to, and Donna had to keep reminding herself that she should be as well. Donna was able to close the door behind them as they left the house, and the two were soon leaning against her Toyota once again.

They sat side by side, arms crossed and shoulders touching, matching each other in posture subconsciously. This wasn't the first time it happened, Donna thought, and if they were going to continue being best mates, then it wouldn't be the last. It was silent for the moment, save for the next door neighbor who was moving their lawn and the cry of children playing a few blocks down from them. Donna looked over to John, who was looking up towards the sky, obviously deep in thought. Donna hesitated before speaking.

"Hey John, I was think-"

But just as she started, Sarah Jane opened the front door. With her she brought a container of what looked like fruit. As she got closer, Donna could see a banana, a pair of apples, and a pear, which only made Donna come to the conclusion that Sarah Jane was a health conscious type of mother. John got up from his position and reopened the trunk to the Toyota.

"Thanks, Sarah Jane." He said.

"Don't mention it. I'm just doing what I need to for my boy." Sarah said as she set the container of fruit on the roof of the car. "God knows how much you can't pack. I wouldn't want Donna to suffer from this experience by herself."

"That's so considerate of you." John said half jokingly. "Now we need to get to the University before four, so we should probably get this done quickly. If you wouldn't mind."

And before Donna knew it, half an hour passed and she was left standing in between the two Smith's trying to shove John's refrigerator between his suitcases. The combined efforts of the three didn't seem to have any effect of the mini-fridge. All three were groaning after Donna kept ordering to push and put their backs into it. Thankfully, after a short burst of energy, the fridge had budged just enough that Donna was able to close the back door to the Toyota.

Donna and John let out a large sigh of relief. John wiped at his forehead, which was glistening with sweat. He had long since abandoned his black leather jacket, which was now residing in the passenger seat of the car. Donna knew she was just as sweaty as John was, and was too happy about the offered glass of water from his foster mother. The three stood there for a couple minutes, solely drinking the cooled water.

"Well, I guess my job here is done." Sarah Jane said, hugging her son. "Promise you'll call me when you're all settled in."

"No promises." John muttered into her ear as he returned the hug, squeezing her shoulders happily. "You know how rubbish I am about calling you."

"I know, you always are." Sarah Jane said through a short laugh. She then turned her attention on Donna. "Look after him, can you? He can be a handful at times, but look after him for me."

"Only if he promises to look after me while at it." Donna said as she smiled, joking.

However, it looked like Sarah Jane took what she said at heart, for she didn't react at Donna's joke. Instead, she took the ginger into her own tight bear hug. Donna went stiff at the sudden and unexpected contact, but then released enough tension to pat at the woman's back reassuringly.

"Don't worry about yourself, he'll make sure your safe." Sarah Jane whispered into Donna's ear.

Before she could question her about what she meant, John honked on the horn. He could be impatient at times, and now was one of those times. Sarah Jane broke the hug and then patted Donna on the back. She handed the container of fruit over to Donna, who took it while giving the woman a confused look.

"It's for the journey back. You probably know by now how hungry John gets at times. And he's going to need to occupy himself during the hour's drive." Sarah Jane said.

"Uh, thanks?" Donna stuttered.

Donna opened the door and got into the car. She handed the container over to John. He took it without a word and Donna started the car. As she was pulling out, Sarah Jane stood in the driveway and waved goodbye. As a response, Donna honked the horn before turning to the road and leaving John's home street.

The first half of the trip was spent with the two friends talking to themselves about small talk or singing to songs on the radio. They ate on the way there, Donna had one of the apples and John managed to eat both the banana and the pear, both of which he enjoyed immensely. It was on the way back that they had gotten into traffic just before entering the city limits. At this, Donna sunk into the driver's seat and let out an impatient huff. John wasn't fairing much better.

Suddenly, Donna remembered what she was going to ask John just before they left his house. She took a quick glance over to John, who was playing at the hem of his Leather Jacket, obviously not thinking about anything important. Perhaps this was the best time before they moved him in?

"Hey John?" Donna started.

"Yeah?" Was his response.

"You never told me that you lived with a foster family." Donna said, keeping her eyes on the road and not on his reaction.

". . . So?" John said after some hesitation.

"So? So is that why you never talked about your past with me?" Donna asked, letting some of her irritation show in her voice. She gripped the steering wheel tighter. "We've known each other for months now and you know so much about me. You've been to my house for days on end. My mom tolerates you, but my granddad adores you so much I think he sees you as a grandson. But this is the first time I hear that you're adopted!"

"Is my being adopted disturb you?" John asked, sounding just as irritated as Donna had.

"No! Not at all!" Donna yelled. "What disturbs me is that I know nothing about you! Yeah, sure I know you want to travel the world, have a knack for history and science, but that's just small stuff. Who are you, John? Where are you from?"

John didn't answer.

The tension remained in the car for minutes. The traffic wasn't helping either, as Donna was forced to keep her foot on the break, constantly stopping every few feet. Neither of them dared look at each other, knowing that if they did, their anger would explode even further. Finally, after about fifteen minutes, John let out a sigh, seemingly giving in.

"I didn't tell you because I don't know myself. At least, I'm not sure of it myself." John said in a low, harsh tone. Donna dared a glance at John, but saw that he was staring out his window, shoulders hunched over and arms crossed uncomfortably tight. This subject was clearly bothering him. "I have a severe case of Amnesia, Donna. Sarah Jane and Luke found me three years ago roaming around the streets in the middle of the night.

"I was covered in blood. Caused by a big gash running on my head. I had no ID on me or any belongings; just the clothes on my back." John pointed to his temple, where Donna could see a faint line of a thin scar long healed ago. He traced the scar with his index finger, which showed that it traveled from the top of his right ear to back over his head to where it stopped just above the top of his neck. "They rushed me to the hospital, where I eventually recovered. At first, the doctors thought I was going to have permanent brain damage or stuck in a coma for the rest of my life, but I lucked out with only Amnesia."

At this, John stopped and snorted.

"If you can call it luck. I can't remember a damn thing before that night, Donna. And it's likely that I'll never find out after three years of waiting for it to come back. I don't _know_ who I am, and I never will. Remember that day we met on the bus? You made fun of my name as John Smith, saying that it was as creative as John Doe. Donna, John Doe was the name the doctor's gave me, because they thought I was going to _die._ If Sarah Jane and Luke hadn't found me, then I probably would have.

"So that's why I never told you about myself. Because, in all truth, I don't know myself."

And then John stopped, allowing silence to fill their car once again. Traffic started to disperse, and Donna accelerated the car to the speed limit. John was heavy breathing; it had taken a lot of energy to get what he said off of his chest. A quick glance over to him showed that his eyes were watering up, right on the cusp of tears. Donna didn't know if she couldn't speak or if she was too afraid too. She hadn't wanted to hurt John, she just wanted answers.

Donna felt like she needed to though. The silence was deafening, and it hurt her the longer that they sat in it. Finally, Donna decided. She pulled the car over to the side of the road, right into an open parking spot and turned off the ignition. They needed to talk about this before they continued.

"I'm sorry John. I shouldn't have pried." Donna said softly, her voice just above a whisper.

"No, it's alright actually." John said, matching Donna's volume. "I shouldn't have exploded like that. It's just . . . it's difficult for me to think about my past. So I just don't. I just ignore it and it feels like nothing ever happened."

"I won't do it again."

"Thanks, Donna."

And after that, Donna never asked about John's past unless he brought the subject up himself. In time, both learned how to avoid the subject altogether


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

It was the beginning of their third year at college, three years of knowing each other, that Donna and John decided to rent a flat together. After spending two extra years at home, Donna and her mother were now constantly arguing with each other, despite how trivial each subject was. It was actually Wilf that had suggested the original idea of renting a flat in an attempt to get a peace of mind. John, no matter how much he loved attending the university, was getting sick of the constant change of roommates that either couldn't stand him or the ones he disliked. And commuting from home was out of the question, as it took over an hour to get from his house to the University.

The decision was pretty easy, and the two friends had settled on a small flat that was affordable now that they both had part-time jobs (not to mention the help they got from Sarah Jane who had offered to pay for half the rent). It was close enough to the university that it was only a twenty minute walk away and yet far enough that this part of the city was quieter, allowing both of them a place to study for exams. It was a good size flat, with two small bedrooms, a connected kitchen/living area, and an incredibly tiny bathroom that housed a small sink, toilet, and a decent enough shower.

It was the best John and Donna could get, given the amount that they could afford, even with Sarah Jane's help. They both decided to rent it as soon as the tour of the place was over. With the help of both of their families, the two friends moved in two weeks before the start of their Junior year and now it was completely furnished. And through those weeks, the friends realized how easier it was living together than in their previous living conditions.

That is, until the end of their first month of classes, when October first started. It was then that Donna discovered that John not only had a fondness for adventure, but sometimes even danger.

It was Donna's turn for cooking dinner that night, this time it was baked fish and microwavable broccoli, having finished her homework for both her accounting and marketing classes. John was sitting in the middle of the living room, his physics homework splattered around him to form a complete circle. His astronomy and history homework were resting on the small kitchen table given to them by Sylvia, already completed and ready to be typed later tonight. A pen rested in John's mouth, which he sucked on subconciously while he thought long and hard about whatever he was doing.

"You've been thinking too long, John!" Donna called out as she took the broccoli out of the microwave, fingers burning from the heat. "The food will be ready in a couple minutes."

"Shut up, Donna." John shouted back, knowing that Donna wouldn't take the remark seriously.

Donna couldn't help but smirk at John's reply and she went back to getting the fish ready. About seven minutes later, the timer went off, letting Donna know the fish was done baking. She set off the timer and opened the oven, a wave of heat hitting her face. Donna took the fish out and walked out to the other room, where John hadn't moved an inch. She placed the tray of cooked fish gingerly on their small table and grabbed a hold of John's astronomy textbooks, which she not so gingerly dropped on the floor.

John's head snapped up instantly after he heard the loud thump of his books on the floor.

"Oi! Don't do that, I had to pay for those you know! And they were expensive!" John said as he finally scrambled up to a standing position.

"Please," Donna snorted, "If I recall, you bought them all for twenty pounds from your old roommate last semester."

"And that's not expensive?" John said, grinning like a sap. That earned him a soft punch to the shoulder, which only made him grin even more. "Well, it was expensive for me at least."

"Stop trying to convince yourself otherwise and sit down. I'm starving." Donna said through a sigh.

John shrugged and plopped down in his seat. The two soon fell into their usual bickering. They never stayed on the same subject longer than five minutes, going from their classes to future plans, to what they wanted to do together when the weekend finally came around. John wanted to do something drastic, like spend the night in Spain, while Donna was more apt to go spend the weekend still in London.

"I'm just saying, let's just go watch a movie or something. My mother is still fuming about you taking me over to Ireland with your family for a whole month this summer. If she catches wind that we took a weekend out at Spain, she might make me come back home." Donna said as she took apart her fish and made it into a sandwich between two pieces of bread.

"I could have sworn I told your mother about it beforehand." John said, scratching at his short cropped hair, averting his eyes from Donna. "You're grandfather Wilf seemed okay with it."

"You told them the night before, when we were just about to _board the plane_!"Donna said exasperatedly.

"If it's any compensation, It's your family." John muttered, now incredibly interested in his spoonful of broccoli on his plate.

"And what do you mean by that, huh?"

"I said it was your family." John said, louder now. He slunk back in his chair, acting aloof as if he wasn't at fault here. "Shouldn't it be your job to tell Sylvia and Wilf where you're going, not mine? To me, it looks like I'm getting the blunt of the punishment when it should be you instead. It's not my fault that you keep your family out of the loop."

"Oh, sod off." Donna said while she couldn't help but crack a smile. Her friend had a point.

Just then, Donna's cell phone went off. Donna pulled it out of her pocket and saw that she got a text from her mother. Frowning, Donna opened her phone and read the text.

_Just a reminder in case you've forgotten after all these years. Look for a boyfriend. I'm not getting any younger dear.-Mom_

At that, Donna couldn't help but grumble in irritation. Before she could think of what she was doing, she threw her phone across the room and onto their old shabby couch that Wilf had given them. John ducked just in time for the phone to whiz by his right ear. He looked at the phone where it had landed, and then gave Donna a confused look, mentally asking why the phone had deserved that kind of treatment.

"And you did that because . . ?" He asked slowly.

"It's my bloody mother. Still pestering if I have a boyfriend yet." Donna growled as she ran a hand through her long ginger hair. She then rested her elbows on the table and then put her head in her open palm, giving herself overall a helpless look. "Am I just some object to be sold?!"

John actually looked like he was considering her exclamation. She scowled at him for a second before he let out a small chuckle.

"No, it's not like we live in ancient Greece. Just tell your mother to stuff it." John said as he continued eating his fish.

"Ancient Greece?"

"Yeah, in Athens back in ancient times the father would usually sell their daughters to a complete stranger, either for profit or for a more . . . political standpoint. Often the daughters wouldn't even be allowed to-"

"And thank you, John, for that short introduction to my next history class." Donna said, cutting off her friend before he could start a whole tangent about the subject. He had the habit of doing that ever since he decided to take a History minor into his degree program. "This is not Ancient Greece, this is the twenty first century. And now I'm even more glad that I live in _this_ century."

"But the past is fascinating." John said, confused as if he couldn't understand why Donna wasn't interested in the subject. He put down his eating utensils and started talking with his hands "Haven't you ever wondered how or why things are so different now from way back then." He then snorted. "Or how things aren't so different. We're still fighting the same damn wars, there's still poor, and there are millions starving."

Donna dropped her fork. "Oh god, you're making me feel guilty for eating a single strip of fish!"

"That wasn't my intention." John said through a small laugh. "But it proves my point. Things haven't changed that much on this little ball of rock."

"Just finish your food and clean up, John." Donna said as she flicked a piece of broccoli at the man in a friendly manner.

The broccoli hit John square in the cheek, and then fell onto his jeans in a quiet _thump_. John's eyes narrowed and he smirked. This meant war. And before the two could realize, they were having a mini sized food fight between the table. And Donna learned, apparently, condiments were free to use, as John had managed to squirt ketchup into her hair.

"Blimey John! Now I need to take a shower." Donna said as she punched him playfully on the shoulder.

"Well go do it, then. I'll clean up while you're at it." John said in response.

John got up then, picking up both of their plates as Donna headed to the bathroom. Seconds later, he could hear the water start up through the pipes, signaling that the woman was already in the shower. John placed the dishes in the sink and went back to pick up the scraps of food that had been used as projectiles on the table. The mess they created wasn't that bad and John finished pretty easily. There wasn't much food left to be used as leftovers, so he threw out what remained.

He started to wash the dishes, his mind already back on his physics homework. John was mentally working on a set of difficult problems when something caught his eye when he looked out the window. It was just a flash of movement, but it had been fast and disappeared almost as soon as it appeared. John craned his neck to get a better look, but was disappointed to see that it was gone.

John shrugged the feeling off and went back to work.

It wasn't five minutes later when that something caught John's eyes again. This time he was able to see what it was. It was a man and a woman who were hastily moving through the street across from the flat, and into a side door out in a back alley. At first John's mind supplied the thought that they were just a couple sneaking in through the back into their favorite restaurant. Nothing out of the ordinary.

And then John remembered that there was no restaurant across from their flat.

John kept his eyes on the window, deciding to wait to see if they came back out again. A few minutes passed, and the man came out through the door. There was no sign of the woman. John frowned at this and completely dropped the plate he was washing into the soapy dishwater. Instead, he gripped at the sides of the sink to prop him closer to the window.

Five minutes again, and the man reappeared. This time, he was with another woman. And John could see now that he was holding her with her arm twisted behind her back.

"That's not good." John muttered under his breath as he frowned.

Donna stepped out of the bathroom, currently clean but wearing her previous clothes. She noticed John leaning over the kitchen sink and stepped towards him. He didn't notice her approach and Donna could feel her face distorting to give him a strange look.

"John, what are you doing?" Donna asked in a hushed tone.

"Something's going on across the street. I don't like what I see." John said as he moved to give Donna a chance to see. She leaned over the sink and they watched in silence. As the man came out of the building again, John pointed at him. "There, he brought two women into there while you were taking a shower. He brought one in there against her will."

They watched in awed silence as the man disappeared. Like the first two times, he reappeared with another woman in tow. Like the last one, this girl was being held with her arm twisted around her back in a painful manner. Donna let out a shocked gasp and frowned as she watched the two disappear as they entered through the building's back door.

"That poor woman. Do you think they kidnapped them?" Donna whispered.

John shrugged. "I don't know, but I have a gut feeling that it's not exactly legal."

"Should we call the police?" Donna asked at the same time that John looked at her and grinned, saying "Should we go have a look around?"

Donna gave her best friend a look of disdain. "Are you insane? If they're kidnappers they probably have guns."

"Then let's try not to get caught." John said as he left the kitchen. He went over to the couch where Donna had thrown her phone earlier. He gave it to Donna as she followed closely behind. "But we should keep this on hand if we get caught."

"You're really thinking about doing this, aren't you?" Donna asked, sounding like she was questioning John's mental stability. Which she currently was. When he just looked at her seriously for an answer, Donna sighed. "You really are. Oh god. I guess this means I'm coming as well! Bloody fantastic, I mean who else is going to get you out of trouble?!"

"Come on, let's go." John said as he tossed Donna her set of keys expertly. "We need to get in there when he's going to get another girl."

* * *

The two waited at the corner of the street, pretending to have a conversation while waiting for a bus to arrive. Donna provided the talking while John kept an eye out for the man, determining whether he was still in the building our out to bring more woman to the place. As a public bus drove by the corner, John finally saw the man exit the building. Once again he was without a female companion.

"He just got out of the building." John huffed under his breath, shoving his hands into his pants pockets.

"This is a bad idea, John." Donna muttered to herself for what must have been the tenth time, which earned her an eye roll from her best friend.

"Yeah, I know that. But someone's got to do something about it." John said as he nudged her slightly in encouragement. A few seconds passed. "Come on, I'm sure it's safe enough to get a look inside for a few minutes." He then frowned. "Unless there's more people guarding the place."

With only a half-hearted complaint from Donna ("oh that's just bloody _brilliant!_"), the two made their way to the alleyway across from their flat. Donna glanced up to their building, seeing that they had left their light on in the kitchen, showing where he had stood only ten minutes ago. John was more focused on the entry to the building. He peered inside, poking his head through almost comically in an attempt to see whether it was safe or not.

Inside was completely void of people. It was an empty storage area, with only a few cardboard boxes and crates adding any symmetry to the place. There wasn't a sound resonating from inside; no footsteps, no hushed conversations, absolutely nothing. John decided that it was safe enough to get a look on the inside and he grabbed Donna's hand subconsciously as he walked in. Donna lost all of her better judgment in that moment and went with him.

The two walked through the room carefully, hoping not to make a noise to alert anyone from their presence. John and Donna wouldn't leave each other's side, fear of the unknown and the excitement of adventure too great for either of them to split up. Donna looked at the boxes, carefully opening up the ones that she could and looked inside. What she saw confused her.

"John. I think that this is just a storage area. For . . . IKEA furniture." Donna whispered as she motioned for John to look over her shoulder.

"That makes no sense. Where did all those girls go?" John said as he looked in the box in disbelief. He shook his head as if to discard any doubts forming in his minds. "This has got to be a front, a cover-up for whatever he's doing."

John was going to continue if it wasn't for the new set of footsteps on the cold concrete floor. Instantly Donna and John clammed up, eyes connected for a millisecond, realizing that they weren't alone anymore. Both friends were frozen in place, neither one knowing what to do. If it wasn't the wall of crates surrounding them, the two would have been found instantly.

The steps were growing louder, closer.

Donna finally gained some amount of common sense back and grabbed onto John's leather jacket. She tugged him away from where they were just standing and behind a corner of cardboard boxes. Thankfully John didn't protest about the rough treatment and clung to the sides of the boxes. Once he was sure that they were safe behind their new cover, John peered an eye around the corner, Donna following suit.

It was the same man, and this time they were able to get a better look at him. He had a large build, and looked fit enough to cause both friends to worry about being caught. The man wore a brown leather jacket and a pair of cargo pants, common work clothes for the average mover. The man also wore a blue baseball cap, but John could still see a wisp of curly brown hair at the back of his neck.

He was not alone. This time he brought with him not only a woman, but a child. She must have been no older than fifteen. She was wearing a blouse, a denim jacket and a jeans, making her look younger than she must have already been. Unlike the other women who all had long hair, she had a short blonde pixie cut, and John could get a good look at the poor girls face. The makeup stains and puffy eyes told John that she had been crying.

John felt himself grind his teeth in disgust.

The girl was mumbling to herself softly, obviously in a vulnerable state of mind. She looked close to panicking, if she hadn't already done so, as she looked around the storage room with flighty eyes. The man noticed this and tightened the grip on the poor girl. She let out a muffled cry of pain.

"Shut it." The man demanded in an American accent.

The two didn't seem to notice John and Donna's presence. The two friends followed the man cautiously and quietly, hoping to remain hidden. The man led them through a pathway between the crates and to a doorway that neither Donna nor John saw before. The man led the girl through it, and they disappeared. Donna froze, not wanting to follow in just yet. She glanced up at John, who was looking at her. He nodded, silently agreeing with her.

There was a large thudding sound coming from the room. And few minutes later, and the man returned. There was no sign of the girl. Donna and John slunk behind another corner of crates as the man passed them. Donna held her breath, hearing her heartbeat quicken as a faint breeze from where the man had jogged by them hit her. She couldn't believe what they were doing, and every cell in her body was screaming for her to leave this place, that this place was not safe.

And then John squeezed Donna's hand in encouragement. And Donna's heart started to calm down. They weren't in trouble. Not yet.

"I think it's safe to go check that room now." John whispered.

"Let's try to be quick about it." Donna whispered back, her fear and irritation weren't showing.

As they entered a room, they noticed that this one also had containers. But not crates or cardboard boxes. No, these were semitrailers that one would find on an open road. There were three of them, all facing a loading door that must have faced the opposite side of their street.

"Where did the girls go?" Donna asked, frowning.

"I have a sinking feeling." John said, his tone turning harsh.

He walked up to one of the semitrailers and opened the door. After a little protest from the device, John managed to open the trailer. As he did so, both he and Donna were greeted with alarmed gasps and protests from dozens of voices. John looked into the trailer to see that there were at least twenty women staring at him, all frightened and ready to bolt if given the chance.

"Oh my god. What is this?" John's voice was full of shock. "What is he doing to you?"

None of them answered him. Donna finally decided to speak up.

"Have you all been . . . kidnapped?" Donna said, her voice faltering. The looks of despair and fright on the women's faces were affecting her, and she felt a few stray tears dripping down her cheeks. She waited for an answer, and after a long pause she was met with one nod from the blonde girl they had just seen. "Kidnapped. Kidnapped for what?!"

"These men . . . are taking us to America." One woman in the back spoke up. She had a Hungarian accent, and she stuttered on the word America. All of the women turned to look at her, nodding in agreement. "We are to be sold as slaves there, like _dogs_. Prostitution."

Donna could see John tighten up in anger as the woman spat out the last word. He shook his head, and he began to rub his temple in an attempt to calm himself down. It wasn't working. Donna could practically feel the resentment roll off of him. And his self control was beginning to wane.

"Why aren't you trying to run away now?" Donna asked in a voice that was just above a whisper. If she had spoken any louder, her voice would have cracked.

"We can't." One woman said in a dejected tone as another cried out. "They'll shoot us if we try to escape!"

"Alright. That's where I draw the line. Donna give me your phone." John demanded in a furious tone of voice as he held out his hand. Donna placed her cell phone his John's hand and watched as he swiped it away and hit the key pads a little too harshly for Donna's liking. "999? I've just found a human sex trade right across from my street. There's over twenty women here and they've said they're heading to America. They say the men who kidnapped them are armed."

Donna tuned out of the conversation, watching as the women's eyes lit up. Some with hope, others with fear. They began to fidget as John gave the police the address of the place and a detail of the room's layout. Donna didn't notice when John finally hung up, only returning back to reality when he placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him.

"Donna, we need to get going. If they're armed we could get shot if we stay here." John said, his bitter eyes piercing into hers.

Donna nodded still looking at the girls and feeling completely helpless. However, she snapped out of it when she saw that John was pulling the door on the semitrailer back down.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing!" Donna said as she ran up to him and grabbed his arm off of the machine. A light had ignited in Donna, and she was now a force to be reckoned with, fury and all. The pleas for help and cries of despair from the women inside only added fuel to the flame. "We can't just leave them in there like that! What if that man comes back here?!"

"Yeah, what if he comes in here and notices that this," John banged on the semitrailer, "is now empty? He's a stupid human, and humans make stupid mistakes. What do you think he'll do? He'll probably panic and start to shoot anyone he sees. I won't allow that. No, it's better if they stay here until the authorities arrive."

"Well you're human too mate, if you've forgotten that. And this seems pretty stupid to me!" Donna argued as she let go of his grip on John and forced the door back open. She stared at the women, passion now filling her heart. John couldn't tell her what to do. "Come on out here, I'm getting you out of this mess."

As the woman hesitantly left the container, John grabbed onto Donna's shoulders to make her face him. He looked at her, angry and confused and almost relieved at the same time.

"Donna, not that I don't love your compassion, but where are they going to go where they can be safe?" John forced himself to ask.

Donna blinked, thinking for a brief second. "The lobby of our building, of course! Now come on, I don't know how much time we have until he comes back!"

Thankfully, the women were quite capable of listening to Donna's directions. They made it out of the building without running into the American, which had been the cause of most of John's anxiety. John opened Donna's phone and called the police again, informing them of this new development. The group rushed across the street and into the building, where they remained for quite some time.

The police arrived shortly afterwards. Donna and John remained in the lobby as they were questioned by the officers and then scolded for their complete lack of self deprivation. They were both told countless times how they "couldn't take the law in their own hands", or "you could have been shot", or even "what the hell were you two morons thinking?".

Hours passed and there was no sign of the American showing up. At that time, all of the women had been sent to the nearest hospital to check for injuries. The American must have seen the police cars and had been spooked, abandoning his job. John looked agitated with the fact that he had gotten away, but Donna was able to remind him of the good that they had done when they were finally allowed to go back to their flat.

"Just think, twenty girls are now able to go back home to their families because we found them. "Donna said as she handed John a warm cup of hot chocolate. She sat down on the couch next to John and took a sip of her own hot chocolate. "We saved them from that god awful future."

"Yeah, but what if it wasn't just twenty girls. What if it was a hundred, two hundred!" John sighed as he shifted back against the cushions. "We could have done a lot better if they caught that filthy rat of a man."

"But now they're looking for him. They'll catch him . . . eventually. Him and the people he's working with." Donna said, knowing that her attempts to make John feel better were getting her nowhere. "Just trust me, it was the best thing to let the girls come with us."

There was a pause. John finally sighed, giving up.

"Just one thing, John." Donna muttered as a long silence was beginning to form.

John looked at Donna, one of his eyebrows raised cautiously. "Yeah?"

"If you ever pull me into a dangerous situation like that again, I might just slap you."

And finally Donna was rewarded with one of her best friend's most genuine laughs.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

The accident happened five years after John and Donna met.

Donna had graduated college last year, having completed the minimum requirements of four whole years. John, who had been in a more extensive program, had been forced to take an extra year to earn his degree. He didn't complain about the extra studies, convincing both himself and Donna that the extra year at the University would allow them to keep the flat for at least another year. Donna couldn't argue with that, as she was currently searching for a job to help pay the rent, but wasn't meeting with much success.

John was twenty four when the accident happened; it was during a dark November night.

John was laying on the couch, facing the ceiling and mentally tracing the patterns of the tiles above him. The sound of his watch ticking the seconds away rung in his ears and he tapped his fingers against the couch's fabric in sync. He could see shapes and designs in the ceiling's tiles, which disappeared as soon as he looked away. Because of this, new shapes and running lines continued to form, leaving after images in his sight whenever he blinked.

This was the best way to keep his mind occupied this late at night when he had finished his homework. However, _nothing helped_, as his brain was still buzzing inside his head, demanding that he ought to sit up and do _something_. With a glance at his watch, John saw that it was only a little after midnight: 12:09. It wasn't that late at night, but he could already feel his restlessness settle in him whenever the night grew old.

This always happened to him, every single night. Whether he was an insomniac or just didn't need as much sleep as a normal human being, John rarely got more than three hours' worth of rest each day. He wouldn't have minded this fact as much, if only there was something to keep him occupied and _not _bored.

"For God's sake, I sound like Sherlock in that bloody TV series!" John muttered as he forced himself into a sitting position. He rubbed at his head furiously, as if trying to force the buzzing to stop and allow it to rest peacefully. There was no such luck. Slowly, as John thought, he looked towards one of the bedroom doors. "I wonder if Donna . . ."

Nope. He was going to stop that train of thought there. Donna was already asleep in her room. She had been for about two hours now. When asked why she kept going to sleep early, she answered with a curt "interviews" and then slammed her door at John's face. John had originally shrugged with her response, but now he wished that he had managed to keep his best friend awake.

John looked down at his watch again. 12:10; only a minute had passed, and for him it felt like a full hour!

He groaned as he got off of the couch. Slowly, John stumbled over to the fridge, deciding that a late midnight snack would at least tide over his overacting brain for a short while. He flipped on the light switch in the kitchen and found the place a mess. The two friends had long abandoned cleaning duty for days now, and the work was beginning to build up.

_Well,_ John thought to himself, _If I get too desperate, I can always spend the rest of the night washing dishes. . ._

One agonizingly long second passed.

_Nah, I'll do it tomorrow._

John then opened the fridge. To his slight horror, he found that it was nearly empty, save for a half full container of milk and a bag of bagels that were long passed the stage of questionably safe for eating. He groaned to himself as he pulled the bag of moldy bagels out and tossed it into the trash. Now all that left him was the milk.

John grabbed the milk and undid the lid. He tossed his head back and drank down the remains of the milk with five solid gulps. The container, now empty, joined the moldy bagels in the rubbish. Another glance at his watch. 12:13. That had not worked out according to plan.

Suddenly, John got an idea. To be honest, it wasn't his best idea, nor the most fun idea. But it was something that would certainly take about half an hour's time to do. The fridge was now completely empty, so someone had to do the groceries. And that someone would be him. There was a place only eight blocks away that remained open until three in the morning. A considerably short walking distance.

Before even properly thinking what he was doing, John grabbed his wallet, his keys to the flat, and locked the door behind him. He didn't even bother to write a list of needed supplies or a note to Donna to fill her in in the case if she woke up to find him gone. As he walked down the flight of stairs, John thought, _She'll probably guess that I couldn't stay in the flat while in a state like this._

The trip to the grocers was extremely uneventful. The air was brisk and chilly, and the wind had calmed down from earlier that day. If it wasn't for the fact that they lived in the middle of a city, John was sure that they would have been able to see the stars tonight. He took his time, casually strolling across the once busy streets that were now completely empty.

He was the only one at the grocers, save the elderly Asian attendant who was currently sleeping on the counter near the cash register. There was a radio behind the counter, which must have lulled the old man asleep not too long ago. The bell that chimed as John entered brought the man back to consciousness and John waved at him, smiling.

John got the bare essentials. Milk, bread, cheese, eggs, and something that looked good on buttered toast. After glancing at his clock and seeing that barely fifteen minutes had passed since he left the flat, John went around the small store again, picking up stuff that looked good but wouldn't spoil. Except for the bananas and pears, of course. Once he was satisfied that he not only had enough to fill their fridge, but that an acceptable amount of time had passed, John went up to the counter, where the elderly store attendant was beginning to nod off again.

"I think that'll be all, sir." John said to wake the man up.

In a daze, the old man looked up at John, confused for a second. Suddenly, he remembered why the young man was here in the first place. He nodded his head and opened the cash register.

"Of course, did you find everything you needed?" The man asked, his voice filled with the remains of his short slumber. "Will you be paying with cash?"

"Ah, yes and yes!" John said as he pulled out his wallet from his leather jacket's right pocket. As he got the money out, he looked back up at the man. "I did and I am."

"That'll be twenty three pounds then." The man said.

John handed the man the money and then put the wallet back in his jacket's pocket. The attendant made fiddled with his cash register. After a few seconds, the elderly man handed John his change, which he then put in one of his pants' pockets. He'd put the change in the change jar when he got back to the flat, as was customary whenever he or Donna went out shopping for the essentials.

"Have a nice night!" John called out to the man as he left the store, several large plastic bags in his hands.

"You too, young man!" The other said before once again setting his head down on the counter again.

With his load in tow now, John hurried his pace back the flat. The bags kept his arms full, but they were beginning to burn his arms from their weight after the first two blocks. Perhaps he shouldn't have gotten so much stuff to quench his boredom.

There was an alley to his left, John saw. The lights from the next street shown through it. John made a rash decision and took the path through the alley, hoping that the distance would cut through hi time and distance. He hadn't put in much thought of the dangers of cutting through an alley late at night. Or of the bottom dwellers that lurked there.

By the time that John was halfway through the alley, he knew he wasn't alone. At first, he didn't panic, but he could certainly hear his heart beating; each beat thrummed against his ear drums.

Two men stepped out in front of John, forcing him to stop. They wore jeans and hoodies that looked like they hadn't been cleaned in ages, or like they had found them in the trash. John couldn't get a good look at their faces, but it looked like they were older than him, possibly in their early to mid thirties. The way that they held themselves, hands in pockets or behind their back, told John that they were armed.

"Stop there." One ordered with a hoarse voice, sounding like the typical pack a day smoker. "Drop your bags. Slowly."

"Alright. I'm doing as you say." John said slowly and calmly, not wanting to spook the man. He bent down, eyes still on the man who spoke, until he felt the bags come in contact with the ground. John released the bags and slowly stoop up straight once again. "I'm raising my hands up now."

"Good and keep him up there." The smoker said. He motioned his head to the bags and the other man snapped to attention. "Get the bags, Arin."

The other man, apparently younger and subservient, agreed and scampered to get the bags. John didn't dare move a muscle, sensing that this was a vulnerable time and he didn't want to spook the two men. In an instant, John's groceries were at the men's side, leaving the college student open and empty handed. His hands were still up above his head.

"Where's your wallet?" The smoker asked.

"In my coat's right pocket." John said slowly, but his irritation and panic from being caught in this position was audible. "But there's not much left in it. I used almost all of it to buy groceries."

"Shut up. I don't care how much is in it." The smoker spat, moving the hand in his pocket as if to prove a point. "Now, I want you to lower your right hand. Slowly. I want you to take your wallet out of your coat pocket and throw it on the ground. And no funny things or else."

He didn't have to threaten any further; all three of them knew what the "or else" implied.

John nodded slowly and started to put down his right hand. It was agonizingly slow, and the tension was growing the further his hand lowered. John's heartbeat was prevalent again, banging against his skull making it painfully obvious to him how uneasy he actually was in this situation. He didn't want to get killed anytime soon in this mugging. He was _scared_.

As John put his hand in the right pocket, the two muggers tensed up. John instantly stopped, and looked at them, pleading with his eyes. He was mentally telling them _I'm not going to do anything that'll get me killed._ A long moment passed, a car went by the alley, and then the smoker nodded his head, allowing John to continue.

John felt around his pocket, and his heart sunk when he found that it was completely empty. He always put his wallet in the right pocket, never in the left. He never put anything in his jacket's left pocket.

"I must have put it in my left pocket." John said when he showed them an open palm.

The smoker gritted his teeth in frustration. "Alright, check that one. Use your other hand."

John put his right hand back up. With the same speed as he had before, John brought down his left hand. Carefully, looking back at the muggers for confirmation again. They looked fidgety, as if knowing that they were taking an awful long time mugging him. John knew they wanted to leave soon, which made them more dangerous. The smoker nodded again, this time curt and a scowl on his face.

John put his hand in his left pocket.

The first thing he noticed was how large this pocket was compared to his other one, which made no sense to him. He could fit his whole hand in there, and then some. John had some trouble locating his wallet, mistaking it for something else in there. It felt wallet shaped, but it wasn't as large in width to be his wallet. Soon after that, he did find his wallet, but his fingers brushed against something else. Something metallic, slim, and cylindrical in shape.

"Hold on, what's this?" John asked rhetorically, forgetting about the situation he was currently in.

Without thinking, he started to pull the mystery object out of his left pocket. It shouldn't have surprised him when the unexpected movement spooked the muggers.

"Shit, he's got a gun Ben!" The other one, Arin, exclaimed in a panicked voice.

Before John could register what was happening, his ears popped with the sound of a gun going off. His gut screamed in pain, shooting off everywhere in his body. John was about to scream, when a second shot was fired off, this time just above his chest, into the crook of his neck. John opened his mouth, but found that he could no longer produce any sound. They shot him right through his windpipe!

He collapsed to the ground, pain and panic overtaking him until he was left a puddle of screaming nerve ends. John wanted nothing but to scream for help or for relief, but he wasn't able to. He had hit his head when he made contact to the cold ground, and his vision was blurred, but he could see that his now fuzzy muggers were now panicking as well.

"Oh no, this is bad." The smoker said, sounding weaker and younger than he had minutes before. "Arin, empty out his pockets; we need to get out of here."

Arin didn't move. Didn't speak. He was most likely in shock, but that didn't register with John. He was struggling to get a hold on himself. His neck and shoulder were now suddenly warm, and he realized that that was his blood seeping out of him. Even in his most panicked state of mind, John knew that he didn't have that much longer left.

He was a dead man.

"Arin?! Damn it, I'll do it."

John felt rough, dirty hands on his sides, causing the bullet in his stomach to move around painfully. His lips blubbered about, pleading with the man to stop. _It hurt too much_. But all that he managed to do was a pathetic wheezing and blubbering that did nothing to fill his starving lungs. And as quickly as it was there, the man's hands were gone.

"It wasn't a gun, man. It was this . . . thing." The smoker said. "Here's his wallet and his other stuff. And . . . a blank piece of paper?"

"Wha- what should we do with them?" The younger man asked, whispered in a voice that was scared to speak to loudly.

_"_Leave the paper here, it's nothing. Toss thewallet,his ph_one_ _and keys, and whatever this thing is in a dumpster a few blocks from here."_

_"And the groceries . . ?"_

_" . . . Take them with us, less conspicuous that way. No one will suspect a couple . . ."_

Their voices faded away after that, either from them finally leaving or when John's hearing finally gave out. He was beginning to fade as a whole now, his vision now mostly gone, replaced with darkness and a faint impression of shapes. John could barely feel his warm blood surrounding him now, completely numb to the world in general. Only his thoughts remained with him.

_Please, I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to . . ._

* * *

There was a spark of energy in him. It was a spark of life. Or rather it was more like an explosion, and explosion that engulfed him. He was brought back to awareness, and then back to the world. The sound of car alarms was what greeted him first. There was a dozen or so cars going off, filling in the night air. It surprisingly relieved him, and he sucked in a deep breath as he forced himself to relax.

And then John realized, he was breathing. He was _breathing_.

John sat up as soon as that realization hit him. He looked down at his body, expecting it to be mangled and covered in blood. He should be in complete pain. And surprisingly he was not. John found the bullet hole through his shirt and fingered it. And again, he was surprised to find there was only a hole through the shirt, and not through his stomach. Upon further inspection on his neck, he found that it too was untouched, albeit it fell like the proportions were off a bit. Too boney.

There was a faint sound of a siren in the distance, but it was growing closer.

In his confused state, John knew for some reason that he had to get up and flee the scene of the crime. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that told him that he should not stay here. John got up slowly, expecting his body to be weak, especially after getting shot twice. But he found that he was as strong as before, if not stronger.

However, John felt faint as he stood up. He felt . . . taller than before, as the world around him looked different; the angle was off. John stumbled slightly as he tried to get his bearings. It took him a few minutes to get the feeling back in his legs, and in the time the sirens were growing closer. He had to get out of here.

John was making his way to the end of the alley when he spotted the piece of paper the muggers left behind. He paused and looked down at of it before picking it up and depositing it back into his left pocket. John didn't question why he did that; it didn't even cross his mind. He left there soon after; there wouldn't be enough time to try and find his wallet.

Without even thinking of it, John made his way back to the flat. He needed to get somewhere safe, somewhere he could look at himself and think of a reason why he was not dead. Because right now there was no logical reason why he was alive, let alone uninjured and able to walk. He jogged back to the building hoping to get away from the alley as fast as he could. Just as he turned to go down the correct direction back to the flat, a police car whizzed by him. There was no doubt in John's mind that the policeman was going to where he had just been.

Ten minutes later, John was in the elevator heading to the fourth floor of the building. No one was with him in the elevator at this late at night. Wondering what time it actually was, John looked at his watch. It wasn't working anymore, frozen at 1:34. Oh well, it was an old watch and it probably needed to be replaced anyways.

The door to the elevator opened, and John pushed through it. He walked down the short hallway until he got to his flat. He put his hands in his pockets, looking for his keys, only to find that they were gone. The muggers must have taken his set with them. He was locked out.

That only left him with one option then.

John started banging on the door, hoping to wake his best friend up. He'll deal with her fury later, when he was inside. Right now, he needed to understand what had happened to him.

"Donna! Don-!" He had shouted, but his words caught in his throat. He paused for a second, too startled to move. Then he brought his right hand up to his throat, feeling it. Once again, he noticed how_ wrong_ it felt. But more importantly, that wasn't his voice. He didn't sound _like that_. His heart sank, ready to panic again. He hit the door with more force now. "Donna! Let me in!"

John waited a second, hoping he could hear her move around in their flat. There was nothing.

"Donna!" John shouted with one last bang on the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

Donna could deal with a lot of things. _If_ it was in the morning. Or, even better, in the afternoon.

She thought that that was very generous of her. But when she had been awoken to a loud banging and the shouts of what sounded like a madman at just about two in the morning, Donna wasn't feeling very generous at all. In fact, Donna was feeling the opposite of generous as she made it her personal vendetta to ruin the poor sod's life for waking her up as she sat up in her warm bed. A storm was already brewing in her mind, a storm that should not be reckoned with.

"John! Can you answer that?!" Donna called out as she rubbed at her agitated eyes with both her hands. She felt groggy, as anyone else would feel if they were woken up in the middle of the night. Donna looked at her alarm clock; it was two in the morning much to her irritation. She let out a groan, wincing as the pounding on the front door grew in force. Sleep was still heavily coated in her throat, making her voice croak as she shouted, "John! Get the blasted door!"

Now the person was shouting with even more force, as if answering her. It's a wonder that whoever was driving her crazy wasn't disturbing the other flat owners on their floor. For a brief second Donna thought about letting the others on the floor deal with this problem. But then she didn't want to get in trouble with the older couples. She and John already had a bad reputation with them as it was. Donna didn't want this to be the straw that broke the camel's back.

When it came apparent that John wasn't going to answer the door, the ginger let out a growl and crawled out of her perfectly warm and cozy bed. She stumbled around her dark room, trying to find her pajama pants and socks before leaving. Donna moved sluggishly, only her irritation keeping her moving as she placed the plaid pajama pants around her waist. The warmth of her bed rolled off of her, making her shiver violently at this early hour. She rubbed at her arms as she finally left her bedroom. Donna expected John to be lying on the couch, as per usual, but was surprised to see it unoccupied.

Donna went to open the door. The man had finally given up on beating the door to death. This time she could hear what the man was shouting, and she was confused to realize that it was her name. Who did she know that would be knocking on their door at this hour? One of John's friends? His classmates?

She took another quick look around the flat, his room included, and Donna noticed that John wasn't here. So that was why he hadn't answered the door; he had left on one of his occasional nighttime excursions. It was just Donna's dumb luck that he left when a madman was beating down at their door.

The banging started up again, bringing Donna out of her observation. Donna frowned and shouted back "I'm coming! But if you want John, I ought to tell you right now he isn't here!"

The man must have heard Donna, because she heard him shouting through the thick door again. She heard her name and John's through the stressed and frustrated voice. He paused for a second before hitting the door one more time to prove his point. Whatever point it was, the man wasn't leaving any time soon.

Donna finally decided to at least look through the peep hole. She could at least do that before sending the man off on his way. Or calling the authorities on him. What Donna saw was a man that she did not recognize, even when he was distorted through the glass hole. Nothing else filtered through her brain after that assessment. He was a stranger that decided to wake her up in the middle of the freaking night. That had been strike one.

"Who are you?" Donna asked in a raised voice, still watching the man through the peep hole.

The man lit up when he heard Donna address him, ginning slightly. "Donna! It's me! Can you open the door?"

"No." Donna said slowly. "Why would I do that? And why are you looking for me at two in the bloody morning?"

"You don't recognize me?" He waited for an answer, frowning in confusion. When he didn't receive one, he put his elbow on the thick wooden door and placed his head in his open palm, leaning into the door. The man then let out a small groan. "Donna, it's me John! I got mugged!"

Well that didn't make _any_ sense.

"What are you talking about? You look nothing like John." Donna scoffed. The nutter. Donna turned around to leave, hoping the man would leave at that. However, as she turned the man started to hit the door again, as if sensing that she was done with him. Donna glared at the door, her anger rising. This would be strike two; one more strike and Donna would give up on being generous. "Don't make me call the cops on you! I _will_ do it!"

"No please Donna." The man begged, sounding close to hysterical at this point. "You need to believe me. I'm your best friend, just look at me. You have _got_ to let me in."

Donna let out a sigh and regretfully looked back through the peep hole. She was met with the man's dark brown eyes, which were staring straight at her through the hole. They were pleading with her, sad puppy eyes that Donna thought no grown man could achieve at this age. And to her horror, they were working on her.

Before Donna could think of what she was doing, and later she would blame the fact that she was too tired to think correctly, she placed the chain lock in its slot and opened the remaining ones. She cracked open the door slightly, only for it to be pushed open by the man with both of his hands. If it wasn't for the chain lock, there would be no doubt that the strange man would already be parading about in the flat, doing who knows what. He looked surprised when the door refused to budge further, his bushy brown eyebrows furrowing together to make an almost completed uni-brow. His gaze then caught the chain lock, which he stared at until he realized what she had done. After a few seconds, his eyes fell on Donna, who was hiding behind the safety of the door.

"Just let me in Donna." The man said weakly in a large sigh, suddenly sounding exhausted.

" . . . How do you know my name?" Donna asked suspiciously. Her brain scrambled to form an explanation. "Are you one of John's friends from the Uni? Did he put you up to this? Because if you're trying to play a prank on me, then let me tell you that that is a very, _very_ bad idea. Especially this late at night."

He frowned, confused. "What? No! Like I said, I _am _John."

"Pfft, you don't look anything like him." Donna said, annoyed. Clearly this man was delusional.

The man's frown deepened. "That's the second time you said that. What, do I have something on my face?"

"No, you have nothing on your face, strange man who I've never met before in my life. Now if you excuse me I'm going back to sleep." Donna said, giving the man her best fake smile. As the man was starting to blather pleas, Donna brought her hand up, stopping him in his tracks. She gripped the door handle, ready to slam it in the man's face. The man was_ this close_ to hitting strike three, and at that point Donna would forget about all civilities. "And I was serious about calling the cops. _Don't come bothering me again!_"

"I can prove to you I'm John!" He said as he stuck his foot in the open wedge of space between the door and the frame. The wooden door hit his foot hard and he grunted in obvious pain. Donna gave the man a scathing look that she had practiced on for years when arguing with her mother. "I can prove it. That I'm your best friend. Just. Let me. Prove it."

Donna let out a stressful sigh. "How do you plan on doing that?"

His expression lit up, now full of relief.

"Because we've done stuff together that no one knows about. Stuff that we've never told anyone, not even our parents. Not Sarah Jane, not Sylvia, not even Wilf." The man said, his voice now very calm and collected. He kept his eyes on Donna's, almost captivating her until she let go of the doorknob. "There was a night, two years ago that I decided to do something stupid. And I pulled you in with me."

The man waited for a response from Donna. Donna barely moved, her breathing now short and staccato; she had a sinking suspicion of what he was talking about. And he knew that she knew, which only seemed to bolster his confidence, as his voice only grew stronger.

"We went across from our flat and into a storage room, where we found women being sold into prostitution." He spoke faster now, hope growing in his eyes. He wedged himself into the opening, trying to get as close to Donna as possible. "And it's because of you that we saved them! If you had let me lock them back in there, we might not have. After that night, I spent weeks feeling guilty that I didn't agree with you. Because . . . I started to wonder that if catching that man would have made a difference if he succeeded."

He paused and let out a heavy sigh.

"I never told you that, actually. Because I was too arrogant at the time to admit that you might have made the better choice. You just had _so much_ compassion." He said, his gaze now falling to his feet. "But you were bloody brilliant. More brilliant than I could have been. Even if I didn't really enjoy your cooking that night . . . also didn't mention that I had broccoli down my shirt after our fight. Was there the whole time. Thought it was better not to mention it at all.

"Oh! And that's not it! Sorry, getting off topic. I can also tell you about so many other things!" He said, his words starting to run into each other at the speed he was going at. His eyes were growing wider with eagerness, reliving the memories as he recalled them. Donna's eyes were widening as well, but more in disbelief. "I can tell you about Lance! See?! You remember him, the jerk! Oh how you hated him after what he did to you. Never really liked him myself, but I didn't want to tell you that at the time. And the time I took you to Paris for your birthday? I told you I would take you to the Paris one day and I did _not_ _forget_! We got locked in the Palais Garnier overnight, and that itself was just a nightmare of-"

"John?"

"-problems. Getting lost and ending up in the middle of the orchestra pit. Mind you, we did fall in. But no serious injuries! And then hearing things that went bump in the middle of the night, which disappointingly only turned out to be rats. But that's beside the point, really. And it didn't really help when our cell phone batteries-"

"John."

"-died. Oh, that was the worst part; completely pitch black, that place. And then we got arrested! For trespassing! I don't know how Sarah Jane managed to get us out of that, or else we would have been kept in Paris, locked in a cell for who knows how long. My guess would have been several-"

"John!" Donna finally shouted, getting his attention finally.

He blinked for a second, seemingly put off that he was interrupted so rudely. And then he realized that she called him by name.

"Donna! I finally convinced you!" John said, his voice full of relief. His shoulders finally relaxed and he scratched at his forehead subconsciously. "Now, can you let me inside?"

Donna nodded. John finally freed himself from the tight space and Donna closed the door. She undid the chain lock and opened the door back up. The first thing John did was take the ginger into a tight hug, squeezing her shoulders as if he hadn't seen her in several years. Tired Donna, startled at first, returned the gestured and patted at his head, which she then registered was full with thick, brown hair and not his usual short cropped peach fuzz.

Finally Donna whispered, "John, what happened to you?"

John let out a large, tired sigh and his grip on Donna loosened. Still, he didn't let go.

"I got mugged." John said in a soft voice, barely above a whisper. "Went out to pick up groceries and on the way back I was stopped by two men. They wanted the food and my money. I couldn't find my wallet and they shot me."

"What?!" Donna pulled back at that, taking a step backwards to give John a look. John looked concerned but didn't say anything. Her mind raced with this new information, but she spoke before she could process her words. "So you got shot, yeah? And then decided to get some plastic surgery while you're at the hospital getting patched up?

"Plastic surgery? What are you talking about?" John asked, a look of worry on his face. He brought his left hand up to his cheek.

"I wasn't lying when I said that you don't look like yourself." Donna said, her voice growing serious.

At that John frowned, and there was a brief flash of fear in his eyes. John pushed past Donna and into the living area. There was a mirror on the wall hanging above the couch; it had been a gift from Sylvia back when they had moved into the place. John dove onto the couch, landing on the shabby cushions with his knees and placed his hands on the wall for support. He kept his eyes on the mirror, and then instantly froze when he saw his reflection.

The room suddenly became very still. Donna barely moved from where John shoved her aside roughly. But now that she saw that John wasn't moving, she took hesitant steps to his side. As Donna came closer, she could see his new brown eyes moving rapidly over every detail of his new face.

His head was longer than before, as was his nose. Not longer, the best word to describe it would be narrower, or not as round as before. His ears, huge as they had been, were now a more decent size, which meant that Donna's nickname "Big Ears" was no longer relevant. And John now had brown hair, so much hair. It seemed to defy gravity as it stuck out at any angle it wanted to. John had even managed to grow sideburns, which he had never been able to do beforehand. The eyebrows were more defined, fuller. They arched slightly at the end, giving John a slightly manic look to him. Freckles dotted his face faintly and he seemed to be counting each and every one mentally.

Donna watched as John gulped, his Adam's apple bobbling as he did so. Slowly he raised his left hand, watching it carefully, and he brought it up to touch his face again. He flinched at the contact, as if not actually expecting to feel it. He traced his fingers up to his hairline and then dragged the hand through his hair, unsettling it even more. She then realized what he was doing: John was trying to find the scar from the accident that left him with amnesia. But as he dragged both hands through his hair roughly, Donna could tell that the scar was no longer there. Donna could see his self-control dissolving very quickly; he was losing his stillness and began trembling.

After a considerable amount of time passed, John looked up at Donna. His brown eyes were terrified and vulnerable, something that Donna would never consider her best friend to be. He looked . . . small. He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat closed up on him, leaving him breathless and gulping like a suffocating fish.

"Donna," John finally managed to squeak out, "_what happened to me?_"

Donna thought for a long moment before shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head. She whispered back a small, "I don't know."

John seemed to process her words. After a few minutes, John nodded in agreement and slunk back down to sit on the couch. He looked spent, exhausted and unable to think for much longer. John even looked dead to the world. Donna sat down next to him and the two of them stared out the window without truly looking at anything. What was there to do in this situation? Neither of them knew and it was too late at night to think very clearly. But they weren't ready to sleep either.

Finally, John spoke up.

"I think I died, Donna." John said, his voice still weak. He fingered his shirt, which caught Donna's attention. She watched as John found the bullet hole and stuck his index finger through it. John wiggled it as if to prove his point. She stopped breathing. Donna stared at the hole in disbelief."They shot me in the stomach, and then in my throat. I was bleeding out, and I knew I was close to death. And I think . . . I think I died."

"So what, you were brought back to life?" Donna asked quietly as she grabbed John's free hand and gave it a squeeze. "Woke up and found that you were in a different body?"

She could feel John nod against the couch's material.

"I think so. Except I didn't find out until just now. . . but that would explain why I sound so different. New accent as well." John said, gulping after he spoke. He then tensed up, becoming as rigid as stone to the touch. Donna glanced over to him and saw that there was a spark of fear back in his eyes. And then a shudder passed through him, shaking Donna to the core, and ultimately passing his fear over to her. "What am I?"

Donna noticed that he said "what", not "who". That was not a train of thought she wanted to start right now. At that, Donna shook her head and tightened her hold on John's. Perhaps a bit too tightly, as John let out a small grunt in pain. However it did catch his attention. John looked at Donna, who frowned and shook her head again.

"Now's not the time to be thinking like that John." Donna ordered. She let go of John's hand and stood up from the couch. She crossed her arms as she looked down at him, looking very motherly all of a sudden. "You just got shot. You're panicking. I'm tired. The best thing to do right now is to sleep on this. Tomorrow, we'll talk about it with a more leveled head than at this late hour. "

John frowned incredulously. "You honestly think I can sleep after something like this?"

"No, but I expect you to." Donna said as she grabbed his hand and started to pull him up from the couch. He resisted however, and she felt like she was trying to pull her arm out of its socket. Donna gave up and rubbed at her arm, already feeling it go sore from the strain. " Come on, John. Up and at 'em."

He moaned and tilted his head backwards until it made contact with the wall. "No, just leave me here. I'll be fine on the couch for the night."

After a petty but incredibly irritable argument, Donna had finally convinced John to go to bed. She helped the man get into his room and change into his pajamas. Donna didn't turn her head as she helped John strip down to his boxers. This hasn't been the first time she had seen this much of his body; there had been many nights that both friends had made some bad mistakes, leaving the other in charge to take care of them.

But now that she thought about it, this _was _the first time.

This point was proved again when John stared down at himself in his pajamas. The mint green material was too short on him, showing that he had grown a couple inches in height. The pants were at least three inches above his ankles and the sleeves were halfway to his elbows. A little bit of his freckled stomach was showing, along with his belly button. The pajamas were, on the contrary, quite large in terms of width. John was now much skinnier than he had been, leaving the pajamas hanging loosely around him. It took quite a few knots to get the pants to stay in place around his now skinny hips.

All in all, John looked even more uncomfortable. He turned his glum stare from his clothes up to Donna, who was trying her best not to smile in this situation. John let out a rough sigh and sat on the edge of his bed. The stress of the situation was still haunting him.

"I can spend the night with you. If you want." Donna offered, knowing that that was what her friend needed right now.

John looked up to her and smiled softly. "Thanks Donna, I appreciate that." He moved over to the other side of the bed and patted on the mattress in invitation. Before Donna could move, however, John raised an accusing finger at her. "But _don't _hog the bed."

Donna snorted as she sat down and pushed on his shoulders softly, which rewarded her with a smile that she was all too familiar with despite the change in face. "Like you're the one to talk!"

That was the end of that conversation. Donna turned off the lamp at the bedside, sending the two of them in darkness. They laid there silently, hoping that the other one wouldn't say something stupid like "butts" to send them laughing for something completely moronic. However, once again the grimness of the situation left the air around them sober and thick. John turned over, facing the window outside where he could see the streetlights fall through the shades.

Donna waited to see if John was going to sleep before attempting to herself. She waited to hear his breathing slow down to a calm and steady pace. She waited to hear him breath loudly through his nose and feel the blankets surrounding them loosen from his hold. After twenty minutes, none of these things happened.

It looked like John wasn't going to sleep after all.

But that didn't mean that Donna wasn't going to try.

* * *

A/N: There were a few people voicing that they wanted to see more Nine and Donna interaction. Please keep in mind that this is a work in progress; that I'm going to do some major reconstruction on this the further I go. I had actually planned on more Nine and Donna, but in Flashback Chapters. It won't be until I get further into chapters that I'll decide what to do with them. I might add them at the beginning with the rest of Nine or put them between major plot shifts.

Nonetheless, I will keep you, the readers, informed of any changes I do.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

It wasn't two hours later that Donna was awoken by the sound of an unfamiliar man dying, screaming to the heavens for mercy. Donna shot out of bed, expecting a burglar to be standing in her best friend's bedroom begging for John to not hurt him. But why would John hurt someone? And why wouldn't he have woken her up?

It wasn't for a few seconds that she remembered what had just passed earlier this night. That wasn't a burglar screaming, it was John. Donna twisted around to see that John was no longer on his side of the bed. She peered over the side and saw that John had fallen onto the carpeted floor. He was now rolling around the floor, floundering against the bed stand and his dresser violently. John was grabbing at his chest and sides with both of his hands curled up into claws. John was still screaming, but now every so often he would be left panting or groaning in severe pain, too winded to let out his agony any other way.

Donna was on her feet in an instant. She stumbled as she made her way across the room to the other side of the bed. She knelt down beside her friend, who was attempting to crawl into a ball. John's face was scrunched up in pain, wrinkles on his forehead and his mouth trying to form words against his screams. Donna grabbed onto his shoulders and pinned them down against the floor. John continued to flop around like a fish on dry land.

"John? John! Listen to me!" Donna yelled as she tried in vain to keep the man under her control. He seemed to recognize that she was there, as John nodded his head in recognition. However, he didn't stop his movements, as if they weren't in his control. "What's happening John? What happened?!"

"It. . . it hurts!" John managed to sob. A clawed hand reached up to his chest and he grabbed at the pajama's fabric. John tugged at it hard and Donna wondered if he would be able to tear at it. "Ri-right here! Something's in my chest!"

At that Donna nodded. She quickly fumbled with the nightshirt's buttons. It took longer than it should to undo all the buttons. During that time John didn't let up in his screams, which were now turning into breathless wheezes and sobs. They were both panicking and Donna's hearing was now numbed, replaced with the continuous thrumming of her heart as she panicked. Donna bit her lip enough to feel the skin break as she ripped off John's nightshirt.

Donna paused for a moment, shell-shocked. She had expected blood, or a bullet wound that had disappeared to now reappear. That at least would make sense in this unusual set of circumstances. Instead, all she saw was John's bare chest. The only problem with it was a thick coat of shine on the pale skin which indeed looked sickly. Donna touched the substance and felt the cold, grimy liquid between her fingers. Sweat.

"I don't see what's wrong!" Donna shouted as a shudder of pain visually rolled through John's body. Another guttural sound escaped her friend's lips, showing that John was now past the state of words. "There's nothing here, John!"

John made no movement to signal that he heard Donna's diagnosis. Instead he balled his hand into a fist and thumped at his right side of the chest twice. Hard. Donna winced at the action before grabbing his wrist to stop the man from hurting himself. John retaliated against the hand holding his and pulled away from Donna.

"No! Stop!" Donna ordered in her commanding voice. She stood up and looked down at her friend with a helpless expression on her face. Donna didn't notice that she was pulling at her hair strong enough to pluck the strands out, or that she was cringing with every sob that escaped John's blubbering lips. "You're going to hurt yourself even more. Stay calm, I'll call for an ambulance."

"_NO!_" John shouted, his voice somehow incredibly loud for sounding so horse and broken. His voice stopped Donna from moving towards the door, effectively freezing her to the spot. John regained enough self control to finally open his eyes and stare pleadingly at Donna. They held the same fear that she saw only hours ago. "No ambulance. No hospitals!"

"Why?!" Donna questioned in disbelief, her voice raising in volume. "Why the bloody hell not?!"

She didn't get an answer from John, save for the shaking of his head. He was back in his world of pain. John thumped against his chest again, twice again. Donna watched her friend, not knowing what to do now that he refused her option of calling for an ambulance. John thumped his fist against his right side twice. And after a few seconds, twice again. John then grunted as the force with each hit started to dwindle. Twice again.

He was trying to tell her something, Donna realized. Donna's eyes widened as she scrambled back down on her knees at John's side. She held onto his chest and leaned over to talk into his ear. Hopefully that would make it easier for her best friend to get his point across.

"What? What are you trying to tell me?" Donna asked, panic shaking her voice. John tried to form words but only coughed in response. To Donna's horror, there was a bit of blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. Now Donna was past the point of panicking and was now hysterical. "What?! _What do you want me to do?!_"

John hit his chest again twice. He tried to do it again but the power was entirely gone from him. John's balled up fist slowly unraveled and then fell to his side, lifeless. His next cough produced more blood.

Oh god. Her friend was going to die right in front of her and there would be nothing Donna could do about it. Donna rubbed her face with both of the palms of her hands roughly, trying to jog her brain into overdrive. An aggravated cry escaped her own lips and she tasted the metallic tang of her own blood. This was not the time to be the clueless friend!

"Come on, Donna! Think! He was trying to tell you something!" Donna shouted at herself in anger. "Two. Two what?! Two blows to his bloody chest?!"

She had not been serious when she shouted this out loud. But as soon as the words were out, Donna took a quick gasp. That _had_ been what John was trying to say. John wanted her to hit his chest when he knew that he wouldn't have enough strength to. Why on earth he wanted her to, Donna didn't know. But now was not the time to question his motives. If the amount of time that passed between each sickly cough John gave was to be an indicator, Donna didn't have much time left to act.

"Oh I hope I wasn't wrong about this." Donna muttered to herself before balling her two hands into tight, tiny fists.

She hit John's right side of his chest with as much force as she could muster. Each hit with one fist. As soon as she made contact, a shock of pain traveled through her fists. Donna hoped that she hadn't broken something in her hands. She hoped that she hadn't broken John. He would certainly bruise there, and there was a good chance that she broke a rib.

But it apparently was what John needed. As soon as she hit John the second time, he was back coughing up blood. This time however, he wasn't only coughing up blood. To Donna's confusion, as John tried to get air back in his lungs, he exerted clouds of a gold glittering substance that wafted in the air much like breath on a cold winter's night. The ginger watched in awe as the glowing gold floated above them and to the ceiling of the bedroom, illuminating the room in wisps and tendrils. She brought up a tentative finger to touch one of the wisps, but stopped herself from touching it. Whatever this gold stuff was, it could be dangerous. Donna could only guess that this had been what was hurting John. But that didn't stop Donna from admiring its beauty as it surrounded the furniture in the room. It dispersed seconds after however, and the two friends were surrounded in darkness once again.

Donna turned to give John as stunned look, but saw that John hadn't noticed the gold substance he had coughed up. Rather, John was more focused on the fact that he was able to breathe again, resting his hands open palmed against his upper torso. John brought up his left hand as he coughed and wiped away the blood that was on the edges of his lips. John looked at the blood quickly before rubbing it on his pajama pants. His breaths were hard and labored, but he was smiling softly in relief.

Donna let out her own breath of relief, temporarily forgetting what had just transpired. If John was smiling, that meant that he would live. Crisis averted.

"John? Can you hear me John?" Donna called as she bit her sore lip.

He nodded. Slowly, he opened one of his eyes and looked at the woman. "Donna?"

"Yeah?" Donna answered, her voice still full of relief. She smiled softly and wiped away a stray tear that was dripping down her cheek.

"Next time," John breathed slowly, "can you try to think _a little bit_ faster?"

"Oh, sod off." Donna muttered as she grabbed John's arms roughly. She swung his left arm around her shoulder and grabbed at his side. Carefully, Donna got John up onto the bed again and placed the sheet back over him. It didn't help her now that John was even larger than before. He felt as limp as a wet noodle, which made her task even more difficult. "I just saved your bloody life. And what do I get in return? A thank you? No, I get a complaint. Now I see where your priorities lie."

John paused at that, thoughtful. It wasn't until Donna was back on her side of his bed that John turned to look at her. He waited until she was settled in to clear his throat.

"Thank you." John said breathlessly. It was clear how tired the whole event had made him. It seemed to be taking what was left of his energy just to speak. Donna looked at his face, and saw the bags under his eyes and the droop that tugged at the edge of his lips. John wasn't just tired, he was exhausted. "I really mean it."

Donna smiled softly. "I know you do. Now try to get some sleep. Or I _will _call an ambulance."

And if that made John shudder, Donna tried not to notice.

* * *

Whatever had happened after the two had first went to bed had tired John out. He was even able to fall back asleep after the debacle. John woke up hours later, feeling as sore and sickly as someone who had managed to throw up in the middle of the night. John woke feeling disoriented, and for the first few minutes of consciousness was just trying to get his bearings as he watched his room spin sheets in his bed were scattered everywhere, along with the pillows. He was now compromising most of the space. It was a telltale sign that he hadn't slept that well all night.

John slowly turned his head to face Donna, but found that she was no longer in bed with him. All evidence of her being with him was the crumpled blankets and the pillows that were out of place. A few strands of red hair clung to the pillows, which John pulled at them weakly. He then placed his hand on the blankets; they were cold, meaning that Donna had left some time ago.

John tried to push himself into a sitting position, but stopped when the headache's pressure in his head grew too much. He let out a groan and rubbed at his head. He froze when he felt his hands touch smooth, thick hair that had been longer than it once been. And then he remembered the events of last night. That's right, he had a new face and body now.

"Donna?" John called out as he forced himself back up. He leaned against the headboard for support and rubbed at his eyes. "Donna are you still here?"

He received no answer. Donna must have already left this morning. A look at the clock confirmed what he thought. It was past ten in the morning; there was no doubt that Donna had already left in search of a job for what felt like the fiftieth time this month. He was on his own this morning.

Suddenly, his stomach made itself known as it growled at John. With a moan, he got out of bed. John trudged out of his room and into the kitchen, feet barely leaved the wooden floorboards. He felt a bit unsteady as he moved and he soon found himself gripping the side of the walls for support. When John finally made it to the fridge, he was disappointed to find it empty. And that only served as another reminder of what happened to him.

With nothing to eat, John decided to fall onto the couch. Which he did so literally. The couch broke his fall, landing on his stomach, and he turned his head out to face the room. John's stomach growled angrily at him again. He rubbed at it to soothe the ache away. He felt the remote to their small television poking at his side, which he grabbed and turned on the television.

John flipped the channels as he laid there, completely dead to the world. He finally lost interest in whatever station he was and dropped the remote on the floor. It was a news station, and their talk of current events, weather, and recent elections were lulling the man back to sleep.

He must have actually fallen asleep because he woke up to Donna shaking his shoulder roughly. He blinked the sleep away from his eyes and looked up at Donna, who was holding a paper bag in her hand and what looked like a coffee in her other. When Donna finally saw that John was up, she let go of his shoulder and pushed his legs off of the couch. She sat down in the now open space as John urged himself into an upright position.

"How long was I out?" John mustered a groan as he rubbed at his eyes.

"Well, I don't know when you went to sleep after your apparent heart attack last night." Donna started as she pushed the paper bag into John's hands. She sipped at her coffee as John fumbled with the top of the bag. "But you were still out when I woke up at nine. And it's now eleven. That means you've slept at least . . . I'd say about six hours? That's got to be a record for you."

"Don't sound so surprised Donna. I feel awful." John said as he finally managed to open the bag. He smiled when he saw that there was a cooling bagel inside with cream cheese. John took the bagel out and took a bite out of it, savoring the flavor. "I feel like a horse kicked me in the head and I haven't had anything to eat yet."

"Well, I wouldn't say that a horse kicked you. And it certainly wasn't in the head." Donna attempted to joke at. There was a small pause as the woman thought carefully. Finally, Donna let out a large, impatient sigh. "John, can you please explain to me why you wanted me to punch you in the chest?"

She was answered with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "I have no idea. I can barely remember what happened last night after we went to bed. I just remember pain. A whole lot of it." He paused and then turned to give her a questioning look. One of his eyebrows raised comically. "Wait, are you saying that you _punched _me in the chest? _Twice?_"

"Oi! You were dying and that's what you wanted me to do!" Donna asserted in her defense. She tapped John where she had punched him and frowned when he winced at her touch. "Sorry. There must be a bruise there. That's probably my fault."

"No, it's fine. I think." John said as he continued to devour his bagel.

The two sat in silence again. They were both thinking the same thing, but neither one of them was willing to bring up the subject of John's body change at the moment. In a way, it was very similar to out of sight, out of mind; if the two friends simply didn't talk about it, then they could pretend that it never happened.

But every time that John caught a glimpse of his reflection, he was left staring at a face of a stranger. Every time he spoke, it threw him off; it was the voice of another man. And if he concentrated hard enough, he could feel the differences in this body than in his own. Obviously, he was taller than before. But this one wasn't as strong as his last one, and it felt lighter. And the long legs made him feel like he would be able to run more easily, and for longer. He even realized that he _thought_ differently.

It felt foreign and completely _wrong _to him. It hadn't passed through his mind last night that he thought he was having a very strange type of multiple personality disorder. That is, if a multiple personality disorder could mean that you thought you were the same person but in a different body.

Donna cleared her throat out abruptly. John looked down at Donna and noticed that she did it to catch his attention. He had been staring at the television absentmindedly as he thought.

"So . . . I've been thinking about scenarios." Donna said in a hesitant voice, sounding as if she was treading on unstable ground.

"Scenarios?" John questioned.

"Yeah. On how you . . . well, on how you know," Donna coughed stiffly, "changed. On how you switched bodies. I've been thinking about it since I woke up this morning. And I think I've got a couple ideas."

John raised his eyebrow at Donna again. "Go on."

That seemed to be enough to encourage Donna.

"Alright. I don't think you're going to like my first one." Donna said in a low voice as she stood up from the couch. She stood in front of John, looking much like a mother would when scolding her child for breaking the family vase. The image was complete when she put her hands on her hips. John leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs and clamping his two hands together, interested in what Donna had come up with. "Okay, option number one. You are not actually John Smith."

"But how-"

"Shh. Hold on a moment. Let me finish, John." Donna said as she stuck out her palms to stop John from complaining any further. "Now, it's the most believable of my theories. Like I said, you aren't actually my best mate. No, you're the guy who killed him. The guilt got to you when you shot John, you went insane and lost your mind. And now you're here pretending to be him without even realizing it."

She paused and waited for John to voice his input.

"Donna, that doesn't make any sense." John groaned as he rubbed at his head. "If I'm the guy who killed me then how do I have all of my memories. Certainly I didn't tell my mugger all about my life as I lay in the alley dying."

"It doesn't make any sense that you're still alive right now! And in that body!" Donna snapped as she tugged at her ginger hair. She realized that she had lost her temper when she saw John's dumbfounded face and took in a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. When she finally regained control, she said. "I told you that you wouldn't like option one. And I was right."

"Well okay then, what's option two?" John asked exasperatedly.

"Option two is that you're actually an experiment that the government tried to keep under wraps. A prototype. But you escaped that night Sarah Jane found you." Donna started, right back on track with her conspiracy theories. "They were trying to create a superhuman that can never die. Use them in war to replace soldiers so no one will lose their lives. Which is why you changed bodies!"

"Oh my god, Donna" John muttered to himself as he face-palmed. "Please tell me you've come up with something else!"

"Okay! Last option!" Donna yelled, sounding even more confident than before. She raised her hands, as if ready to tell an epic tale with the help of painting pictures in midair. "You're not actually human. You're an alien-"

"That's it! I can't take anymore!" John said as he forced himself to stand up. He started to pace around the floor in an attempt to stop this conversation from continuing. "I'm not a mugger, I'm not some government superhuman, and I'm certainly not an alien!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

Sometime after lunch, it was unanimously decided that John would need new clothes. After a quick inspection of his wardrobe, the two friends had finally came to the conclusion that he barely fit into any of his old clothes. Fortunately Donna was able to find a T-shirt long enough to fit John, even if it was loose around his torso area, and a pair of jeans that wasn't too short for his long figure. With a light winter jacket and a pair of boots, John didn't look too poorly dressed.

"We'll need to get me a new set of keys." John muttered as the two of them left their building. He felt the jacket, and groaned when he remembered what the muggers actually took. "And a new wallet."

The two walked down the street, hands tucked warmly into their pockets and their necks covered with knitted scarves. The wind felt cold against their cheeks, and Donna's were already turning red as they crossed at a crosswalk. They stayed huddled together like penguins; they hadn't been expecting the cold front that had hit London earlier this morning.

"We'll worry about that _after _we get you something to wear. I don't care what people will say, but I won't have you running around London in clothes that barely fit you." Donna said as she led John down the street and to the right, taking his elbow in hand. "There's a store this way that should be open on Sunday."

"Splendid." John muttered, suddenly feeling very sarcastic. "I get to be your Barbie doll for the next couple hours."

"Oh, it won't be that bad."

Surprisingly, it wasn't. The two friends were able to find John a good store that looked like it would be promising. Donna had picked out a few T-shirts and jeans for the man, but soon noticed that John was rather more interested in suits now, of all things. She had caught the man looking at dress shirts and ties within the first half of the hour, and then more formal attire within the next half. After some futile persuading for more casual clothing, Donna finally had to give up and let John shop for himself.

It didn't take long for a pattern to form. John was soon trying on button up shirts, suit vests with matching dress pants, and strangely enough a couple pair of converse. Donna watched as John stepped out of the one dressing room in the store, grinning. John was wearing a white button shirt, a dark red tie, a beige pinstripe vest and pants, with a pair of used red High Tops to top it all off. He held the beige coat in his right arm and held up his left, expecting Donna to critique his choice of outfit.

Donna was left speechless for a long time before finally deciding on, "Well, then. You certainly look classier than beforehand."

"Oh, thanks Donna!" He said, grinningly approvingly. He turned towards the nearest mirror and fixed his tie while smiling like an idiot, a sparkle of happiness in his big brown eyes. As he spoke, he kept his gaze on the mirror. "I thought that this new body of mine looks like it belongs with . . . um, nicer clothing. And I was right!"

Donna scoffed, rolling her eyes at his direction. "You sound more arrogant in this body than before; I didn't think that was possible. And more vain."

"I was vain before, Donna." John confessed when his attention finally returned to his friend. He then let out yet another grin. Did he honestly have to smile that much? "I just didn't look good in a suit then."

"Arrogant prick." Donna muttered under her breath and with a shake of her head. Donna got up from the chair she was using. She grabbed her purse and opened it, taking out her wallet. "And I guess that since you lost your wallet last night, I'm the one paying for your new wardrobe?"

"Thanks Donna, you're a lifesaver!" John shouted as he sprinted back into the dressing room.

She couldn't help but shake her head again in disbelief. Donna made her way to the front counter. She said a quick, friendly hello to the young cashier and placed her wallet down on the counter. The two girls waited for quite a few minutes, and when John finally returned, he held a large pile of clothes. He was still wearing the outfit he had just worn, and it looked like he wasn't going to take it off for a long while.

"Sorry, but is it okay if I wear these right now? I don't really have anything else that fits me." John asked as he fixed his suit vest and necktie. The attendant nodded her head as she eyed the pile incredulously. John let out a relieved sigh. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

"Will that . . . be all, sir?" The attendant asked, picking up what looked like a blue vest, belonging to another suit. She took the item and scanned it before pausing and giving the two friends another skeptical look.

"I think so. They all seemed to fit me well enough." John said as he patted Donna on her back. "It's a gift from my friend here."

"A _gift_?" Donna mouthed, her face full of disbelief. She felt her hands clench up, ready to smack some sense into her best friend.

"Yes, a gift! You said you were paying!"

"Fine," Donna grumbled. She gave the two a sour look, which John took a whole lot better than the young girl. The two waited as the attendant scanned the items. When she finally bagged the last article of clothing, Donna opened up her wallet. "Okay, how much am I spending for this bozo of mine?"

"The total is, erm, 342 pounds."

"Wh-what?!"

"342 pounds, miss?" The blonde attendant said, sounding almost scared from Donna's shout.

"Blimey! I'm spending a fortune on you!" Donna said as she angrily got out her sole credit card. She shoved it into the woman's hand before poking at John with almost too much force. She glared at the man, and John took a step backwards subconsciously. "My mom is going to blow a gasket when she hears about this! And _you're_ going to be the one to tell her!"

"Easy, Donna! Let's think calmly and rationally about this." John said, pleading with the woman.

"I _am _being rational!" Donna shouted.

It wasn't long before the two friends were asked to leave the store. Apparently, they were being terribly noisy for the other patrons, which would explain all the sour looks the older clients were garnering towards John and Donna. Not wanting to make a scene, Donna and John left with four bags of clothes in hand. However, not before the young blonde attendant called after them.

"You two make such a lovely couple! Have a good day!" She said.

That had earned the attending a glare from Donna. When the two were about a block away from the store, Donna turned to look at John.

"Do we look like a couple or something?" Donna asked, confusion and worry showing in her voice.

John answered with a nonchalant shrug. "I don't know. Probably. I mean, you _did_ just buy me several suits. What else was the poor girl supposed to think?"

"I suppose you're right."

The two once again started to head back towards their flat when something caught Donna's eye. The ginger stopped in her tracks, which made John stop and give her a questioning look. When Donna didn't notice him, John cleared his throat noisily to get her attention.

"What's going on over there?" Donna asked softly, now snapped out of her small trance.

Still, it took her some time to point a finger down the road and towards a barricade of cars. The barricade was compromised of police cars, black sedans, and what even looked like military vehicles. John turned to look at what Donna was pointing at, but looked right past it. When John didn't see the commotion for himself, she grabbed his chin and moved his head to the correct direction. He frowned at the display.

"Looks pretty serious." Donna muttered.

She half expected her friends to completely ignore her remark and make a beeline to the front of the barricade. And the other half expected him to ask her if she actually wanted to go and investigate. What with their past experiences, John was most likely brewing with questions that he needed answers to. But she was surprised when her remarks were met with an indefinite silence.

"John?"

After a long moment, John answered.

"I don't know. But I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach that it's something bad." John muttered, but it was loud enough for Donna to hear. His voice sounded grim and indecisive. She looked up at him, giving him a questioning look. He felt the ginger's eyes on him and looked down at her, shrugging. "For once Donna, I think we should leave."

Still confused, Donna gave in and nodded in agreement. John picked up his bags of new clothes and the two friends walked to the other side of the street, heading back to their flat. The streets were barren, and the few pedestrians in this residential part of London all had their attention on the scene at the end of the street. It proved to be surprisingly difficult for Donna and John to move pass them.

They were forced to stop when a new set of vehicles, every one of them looking more official than the one before, turned down the road. It effectively filled up the road, and drew even more attention to the scene. John and Donna paused to watch the display just in time to see what looked like soldiers hop out of the black sedans, carrying guns and the whole lot. It was a very intimidating display and the two's frowns of confusion soon turned into worried expressions.

And to their surprise, they watched as the one and only Sarah Jane Smith came out of the nearest black Sedan. She was talking on her cell phone. John and Donna couldn't hear what the woman was saying, a fact that John was irritated about, because the noise from the moving soldiers was too much. It didn't help that she was speaking in a hushed tone.

The two friends looked at each other as soon as they recognized John's foster mother. Without any words, they nodded and hopped onto the busy street towards the woman. They didn't make it very far; as soon as they stepped out of the crowd of onlookers, the two best friends were surrounded with bereted solders.

"No civilians beyond this point." One of the soldiers ordered the two. "Please go back to the sidewalk.

"What are you talking about?" Donna asked, looking confused and worried as she turned her gaze to the soldier. "The barricade is over there. What's going on?"

"That information has not been released to the public yet. Please do as I ask and move along." The soldier said, giving the two younglings a hard stare. His last statement was forced, sounding more like an order more than anything.

"But that woman." John said, pointing to Sarah Jane, who was steadily walking away from them. His frown had grown since he saw his mother, and his brown eyes looked at her retreating figure with confusion and even suspicion, but mostly hurt. Even in this new body, Donna could see the hear all that in her best friend's voice."We know her. What's she doing here?"

"We are not at liberty to say. Now _move along_." The soldier said, frustration showing in his voice.

"Wait a minute. If they know Miss Sarah Jane, wouldn't they know something?" The younger and subservient looking soldier said, looking at his superior.

"Don't speak out of order, Private Connors." The soldier reprimanded. "And they're just kids. What would they know?"

"But sir, shouldn't we ask the woman?" The private asked again.

The obviously higher ranking soldier was just to go off again when Sarah Jane suddenly appeared by their sides. John and Donna had been giving each other looks, mentally asking the other if they should just walk away while the soldiers were arguing. But now that Sarah Jane was there giving Donna a surprised look, and John a suspicious one, the two were rooted into spot.

"Donna? What are you doing here?" Sarah Jane asked the ginger, a frown forming at the edge of her lips. The first soldier was about to answer for the woman, but Sarah Jane placed a hand on the taller man's shoulder, like a mother would when calming an irritated child. "It's okay. I know her. She's a friend of my son's."

"We live a few blocks down, Sarah Jane. It's hard not to noticed the sirens and flashing lights when running errands." Donna said giving the two soldiers a quick smirk before answering the older woman. She and John held up their bags of clothes to put emphasis on the word_ errands_. "What is this all about?"

"Nothing serious. A few of my bosses think a bomb or possible terrorist attack gone wrong. I'm here to find out what it was." Sarah Jane said, sounding very official.

"Y-you work for a bomb squad?" John finally was able to ask, his voice weak and stuttering as he stared at Sarah Jane.

The woman finally turned her ire onto John, giving him a suspicious look. Sarah Jane kept her eyes on John, scrutinizing him just like she had with Donna years ago when they first met. Sarah Jane did a quick look over John's figure, taking him in. She kept her suspicious eyes on John's face as she answered, a small frown forming. To Donna, it seemed like he hadn't passed inspection like she had done.

"Not exactly, but I've had . . . past experience." Sarah Jane said in a low and serious voice. Her voice was borderline threatening. Finally, she was done deducing John and gave Donna a quizzical look as if she thought she'd get an answer from the ginger. "Who is this? I don't believe we've met before?"

"I'm, ah, a friend of John and Donna's." John finally said, lying seamlessly through a bright grin. He stuck out a hand, acting as if this was the first time he was meeting his foster mother. Quickly, a fake story was forming in the back of his mind. "I'm in a few of John's classes. That's how we first met. Spent the night studying together, and ended up crashing that their place. Nice to finally meet you."

"Well, it's always nice to meet a friend of John's. Good to make your aquatence, even if it isn't under the best of circumstances." Sarah Jane said as she took John's outstretched hand. She shook it quickly but firmly. She kept her eyes on John's, and she smiled in such a way that neither Donna or John didn't know if she believed his lies. "Quite a snazzy dresser as well. You could teach him a thing or two about style. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name. What was it?"

"I'm . . ." John bit his lips as his brained scrambled to find a name. It was a faint pause, but long enough to make Donna inwardly cringe. "Martin. Martin Tyler."

"We call him Marty." Donna added, smiling a very cheeky smile. She told herself: if John could lie this easily, then so could she. Donna leaned in forward towards Sarah Jane, as if she was telling the older woman a secret, her voice a hair lower in volume. "He hates it when John and I call him that."

"Marty, then." Sarah Jane said, finally letting go of John's right hand. She then frowned. "Is John with you two?"

Both John and Donna shook their heads simultaneously, their eyes identical masks of innocence.

"Got a bit of a headache from studying too much last night. Not feeling too great at the moment." John said quickly, making a face that Donna had finally decided to call his "lying face" after seeing it so much today. He scrunched up his eyebrows and somehow raised his nostrils and upper lip as his eyes turned upwards towards the sky.

"Marty and I decided to give him space to relax this morning." Donna said, still smiling. "I could tell he was getting into one of his grumpy moods. You know, the kind where he's nothing but an arse?"

John gave Donna a dirty look at that, but dropped it at soon as Sarah Jane and the two soldiers returned their gaze on him.

"Oh, it looked like it was going to one of the worst he's ever had." John said, his voice suddenly sounding very fake with worry. While he had their attention on him, John shoved his elbow into Donna's side, hitting right between the ribs indiscreetly. Payback. Donna flinched at the jab, but didn't show any outwardly pain. "But hopefully John's out of it now. We should _probably_ head back and see if he's alright."

"Sounds like a splendid idea, Marty." Donna said, trying to rub her injured side without the three adults noticing.

"Well, it's probably for the best, then. This site needs to be secured, and I would like for you to be back in the flat with John." Sarah Jane said, nodding her head in agreement. "I don't know how safe it is for you two to be here, and the mother inside of me would like it if you two were out of danger."

"We'll take that as our dismissal then." John said, faking a salute at the two soldiers. Donna suck out her arm, bent at the elbow, and John put his through hers, looking like they were on their way down the Yellow Brick Road, ready to start singing a song or two. Before they turned around, John choked out a small, "Ta-ta."

With that, Donna waved goodbye and the two friends turned around. They could feel the stares from the soldiers and Sarah Jane as they walked away, but they ignored it. They kept the facade until they were a block and a half away from the scene, where they finally dropped each other's arms.

"_One of my moods?!_" John questioned Donna, giving the ginger an extremely sour look.

"Oh please, don't try to tell me that you're pleasant all the time." Donna said, raising a hand at John in defense, which seemed to strike a nerve in the boy. "You're as moody as a girl sometimes. Sometimes I think you _are_ a girl!"

"Is that what you think? So if I have moods . . . what does that mean you have? Huh?" John said, crossing his arms as they walked down the sidewalk. "What would you call them, tantrums? Rants? Dropping an Atom bomb? I personally feel like the last one fist the definition perfectly."

"Stop right there, bozo. You're the last one who should be able to talk about this." Donna said, her temper flaring slightly.

"See, there it is, right now." John said, hopping ahead of Donna, only to turn around and start walking backwards. He pointed at Donna with a knowing smirk, acting as if her mood was a visible, tangible thing to poke at. Like a kid playing with an ant and a magnet. "What would you call _that_ if it wasn't a mood?"

"How about a _warning_, alien boy."

John groaned at that, giving Donna an almost pleading look. "How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not an alien. For my sake, could you please just dr-"

John froze midstep, causing Donna to knock into his side. The two stumbled for a moment, almost dropping his new set of clothes, but John soon went back to being as still as a pole. Donna gave the man a weird look, but then noticed that he was staring at the cross section ahead of them with great interest. She looked back and forth between John and the cross section, trying to find the object that he was staring at.

"What, what is it John?" Donna asked seriously, all joking and name calling aside now.

"That street." Her friend said in a choked voice. John finally broke his gaze with the cross section and looked down at Donna. It took a second for his voice to work correctly agian."St. Paul's Avenue."

Donna looked up and saw the road sign. "Yeah, what about it?"

"I was here. Last night." John said the clenched teeth. Donna looked up to see that the fear was back in John's eyes, most likely re-living the still fresh memories. The bubble of ignorance that the two had for only a few short hours had burst, bringing them back to the unsolvable question at hand. "There's an alleyway between St. Paul's Ave and the last one."

"This was where you got shot?" Donna asked in a hush tone, hoping that none of the passerby's had heard her.

John nodded stiffly, clenching his hands into fists until his knuckles turned white. He started to bite his bottom lip as he went back to stare at the road sign.

"Do you think that those soldiers and Sarah Jane were . . ." Donna couldn't finish the sentence.

"Donna, to be honest, I don't know what to think." John finally broke contact with the road sign again as he let out a stressful sigh. He grabbed her hand and the two continued walking back towards their flat and away from the scene of the crime. He let out a frustrated groan after a long pause one whole block later. "All I can think is that I have a lot of questions that have no answers. Why was Sarah Jane there?! What was she doing, and with all those soldiers? That this doesn't make any sense!"

He let out a large breath, letting out a lot of pent up anger as well. He sat down on a stoop, dropped his bags, and took his head into his hands and rubbed at his hair nervously Donna stood in front of him, watching her friend unravel for the second time in twenty-four hours. Frankly, Donna couldn't take it anymore. She nudged him with the tip of her shoe once. When he didn't respond, she nudged him with a little more force.

"Ouch!" John cried out. He gave her a grumpy look. "What's with the kicking?"

"Oh, _please_. That wasn't a kick." Donna rolled her eyes as she reached for his hand. She gripped his hand tightly and pulled the larger man back up into a standing position. "Now come on, we're going."

"Where are we going?" John asked, his voice rising in pitch as he grew even more confused.

"To get some bloody answers!"

* * *

Sarah Jane watched as Donna and her new friend walked away, arms crossed together like old pals and bags swinging freely in their other hands. She could feel herself frowning in slight confusion, but forced herself to shrug the feeling off. She wasn't here to spy on John and his friends. She was here to work, despite how close to home this felt for her.

"Okay, where am I needed?" Sarah Jane suddenly asked, turning back towards the scene of the crime. She started to walk towards the sealed off location, and the two soldiers who had stopped the two youngsters fallowed her like shadows. "I got a call from the Lieutenant saying that this was important, and related to the Doctor?"

"Yes ma'am. It is." One of the two soldiers answered Sarah Jane curtly.

"Is the Brigadier here?" Sarah Jane questioned as she came to the section of the street blocked off by patrolling soldiers. She waved to them and walked passed. From there, the two soldiers led her down to an alley. "I expected him to meet me; where is he?"

She was answered by a blonde woman in a black suit, who had been at the mouth of the alley. "I'm sorry Miss Smith, Alistair couldn't make it. He's been needed in Peru for quite some time. For the mean time, I'm the head of the investigation until his return."

"Oh, and you are?" Sarah Jane questioned.

"Kate Stewart, his daughter. I've heard a great deal about you since my childhood." The woman said, smiling friendly and sticking her hand out. "It's finally nice to meet you in person, Miss Sarah Jane."

"Likewise." Sarah Jane said as she shook the woman's hand in a firm grip. "Now is this about the Doctor?"

"That's what we're thinking it is. It's difficult to come to a conclusion, however. We haven't spotted the TARDIS in some time." Kate Stewart said as she motioned for Sarah Jane to follow her. "There hasn't been any sightings in the UK or surrounding countries. However, we have other evidence that support our theory that he's been here recently."

_Well_, Sarah Jane thought, _the TARDIS has been up in my attic for several years by now. That would explain why UNIT hasn't spotted it yet. The poor thing, she's probably been bored out of her mind without the Doctor_.

Sarah Jane decided to keep her thoughts to herself as Kate Stewart led the older woman down the alley and to a spot that looked like a murder had happened. There was a pool of blood and a faint imprint of a body. "What we have here is the scene of a murder, but no body. And unless someone decided to move the body . . ."

"Then we're looking for a newly regenerated Doctor." Sarah Jane finished, nodding her head in understanding. She bent down, over the dry puddle of blood, inspecting it. It was the same shade as normal blood. Not the Doctor's slightly off color blood. She let out a sigh and scratched at her forehead. "This looks like a normal murder. Why do you need me here? What happened?"

"There were no witnesses. But the people living in the buildings in the surrounding area called the police. They said that they heard two shots fired around One this morning, and then an explosion shortly afterwards." Kate Stewart said, pointing to the buildings she had been talking about. Sarah Jane followed the woman's movements, but her gaze fell back down to the blood below her. "When the police finally arrived, there was nothing here but a cooling pool of blood."

"When did UNIT arrive here?" Sarah Jane pressed further, her voice raising in volume.

"When someone found this."

Sarah Jane twisted her head around just in time to find Kate Stewart pulling something out of her pocket. The woman stood up straight and went to Stewart's side to get a better look. She sucked in a small gasp when she saw what could only be a sonic screwdriver, albeit it looked completely different than from the last one she saw. It was placed inside a closed zip-lock bag, sealed and ready for the evidence locker. Whatever doubts that had been in her mind beforehand were now entirely gone.

"I'm glad you called me in." Sarah Jane muttered rhetorically, giving the sonic screwdriver a firm look. She reached for the device, only to have Kate grip the screwdriver tightly between her delicate fingers protectively. "May I see it?"

"Of course. You were a companion after all." Kate said her voice slow and slightly lonely. She handed over the object without further hesitation. Sarah Jane held it in her hands gingerly. Her eyes glazed over the screwdriver, looking at the fine details for anything that seemed familiar. After some time, Kate pressed for information. "Is it his?"

"Sorry, can't answer that one for you. At least not without certainty" Sarah Jane shrugged and chewed her upper lip. "I don't know which regeneration would have this one, but its not one that I'm familiar with. But it does look genuine; it's definitely not something that's been made on this planet."

"We were hoping you would have more information. Do you have any idea which regeneration is this one?" Kate said, sounding somewhat disappointed. With a quick glance at the blonde's face, Miss Sarah Jane could tell that her observation was correct. Sarah Jane shook her head, indicating that she did not know. "That's a shame. UNIT doesn't really want a repeat of the Millennium Debacle back in San Fransisco. Does the Doctor have any other possessions he keeps on his body?"

"Are you asking me for other things UNIT should be looking for?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"Well, in that case. . ." Sarah Jane thought for a second. Carefully, she felt the TARDIS key in her shirt's pocket. It somehow felt hotter to her than before, but that was most likely just her nerves. She let out a sigh and glanced at the sonic screwdriver in her hands.

"Look for a key. I don't know what it would look like, but it would belong to the TARDIS. If I know the Doctor, and I do, he wouldn't go anywhere without his sonic or key to the TARDIS. If this is his sonic, then something happened to him, something bad."

Kate was already talking in her cell phone, relaying Sarah Jane's instructions to another person in the chain of command. With the blonde's back to her, Sarah Jane placed her hand in her pocket. She could feel the cool metal of the TARDIS key against the pads of her fingers. It had been the only way to identify who John really was all those years ago . . .

"Ma'am?" A soldier came up to Kate Stewart, tapping her on the shoulder. Kate put her cell phone against her shoulder and looked expectantly up at the bereted man. "We tried to turn them away, but-"

"But what, Captain?" Kate Stewart asked, frowning in worry.

"But this has just become a joint effort." A new, confident voice answered behind the two women.

Kate Stewart and Miss Sarah Jane Smith turned around back to the mouth of the alley to see that it was now occupied by a black Range Rover. The man who called out to them stood in front of the SUV, wearing a long, dark blue overcoat with his hands resting behind his back. Now with their attention on him, the man's group climbed out of the Range Rover simultaneously as if for dramatic effect. This new group consisted of two men and two women, who all carried at least one bag of supplies or tools.

"And you are?" Kate Stewart asked, low and serious. Sarah Jane could feel that the woman felt that her authority was now threatened.

"Torchwood Three. We've been asked by the Prime Minister herself to join UNIT in this investigation." The man with the blue overcoat answered as he strutted towards them. He pulled out an envelope from his overcoat's pocket and handed it to Kate Stewart, a knowing smile tugging at the edge of his lips. "Here's the order from Harriet Jones. Look over it if you want, but it gives my team as much right to be here as yours."

With the man's words, Kate Stewart tore the envelope open. She read the letter addressed to UNIT carefully. A firm frown formed the more she read. She made a disgruntled noise and shoved the envelope onto the chest of the soldier who had informed her of Torchwood's arrival.

"Fine, but this doesn't mean I need to like this. I'm still leading this investigation." Kate Stewart stated in a frustrated voice. She stepped towards the man in charge of Torchwood, and even poked him harshly on the chest. "Any evidence you find, you _bring it to me_. If I hear that you're withholding any evidence, you'll be be out of her before you can even say 'Torchwood'."

The man nodded, seamlessly agreeing with Kate Stewart. "You have our full discretion, Miss . . ?"

"Stewart. And I'm glad we've come to an agreement. Talk to Captain Grieves for your instructions. And do exactly what he tells you. Nothing more, nothing less." Kate Stewart said curtly. With that, the woman stomped away, back towards the mouth of the alley, her high heels clicking against the dirty concrete angrily.

This left the rest of the group silence. That is, until the leader of Torchwood let out a long, falling whistle.

"Well, I guess that went better than expected." The man said, looking at Sarah Jane as if he was starting a conversation with her.

"Don't mind her, really. People just don't like it when someone threatens their power." Sarah Jane said, crossing her arms and watching the figure of Kate Stewart disappear from around the corner. She clenched the sonic screwdriver tighter subconsciously. "Still, it probably is best to follow their orders, just to keep good relations between the two organizations."

This earned Sarah Jane a raised eyebrow from the stranger. "You're speaking as if you aren't part of UNIT."

"Not officially. But I'm sort of called in when it's about . . ." Sarah Jane paused. She didn't know how much she should let this Torchwood know about their investigation. However, Sarah Jane had a gut feeling that they already knew, hence why they were here. "well, you know. About the Doctor. I travelled with him, a long time ago."

"Really?" This earned the woman a pleasant smile from the man. "You were a companion?"

"I was."

"So was I."

Sarah Jane couldn't help herself, she did a double take. This man, who she couldn't really help but consider him remarkably handsome, smiled even larger at her reaction. He let out a small chuckle and ran a hand through his hairline as his gaze went up to the sky. The man let out a large sigh before continuing.

"Yeah, that was a long time ago for me as well. By now, it actually feels like it was centuries ago." He stuck out his hand, ready to shake hers. He grinned, his white teeth shining when Sarah Jane accepted the gesture. "Captain Jack Harkness. Nice to meet you."

* * *

A/N: This one is a little bit longer than usual. I might split this one up into two chapters in the future. But for the moment, enjoy.


End file.
